Sectumsempra Animi
by S. Meech
Summary: Draco Malfoy seeks revenge on Harry Potter for Sectumsempra by use of a forbidden love potion. Harry is desperately infatuated with Draco, who exploits his newfound power to control and torture his greatest archnemesis. HD slash, character death, darkfic.
1. The Whispered Word

**Author's note:** I am beginning this fanfiction while I write Ambivalent Lucidity (Rewrite) because I want to get it out there and (hopefully) finished before the seventh book. I hope you all enjoy it! My approach to writing this fic is completely different than anything I've ever done!

**Future warnings for this fic:** Harry/Draco non-con, character deaths, general darkness and character unhappiness

**And now, Sakai Michiba presents:**

**Sectumsempra Animi**

**Chapter One**

* * *

Harry Potter returned only briefly to the Dursleys after his sixth year for several reasons. On top of the list was the fact that he despised his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon almost as much as he hated Dudley. Another very good reason was the fact that they wanted absolutely nothing to do with him at all anymore, since he would soon be coming of age and allowed to perform magic outside of school. When Harry informed them of this fact, he thought for sure that his uncle would have a heart attack, and he had gone to bed with a very satisfied look on his face. Nothing was as exhilarating as knowing that he would never have to stroll into this house again, if he so wished. 

Another very good reason was the fact that McGonagall had contacted him soon after he arrived that Hogwarts would not be opening for his seventh year. As soon as he could arrange a transport to the Order headquarters, which was back at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place now that they were certain that it was Harry's and not Bellatrix Lestrange's, he was packed and waiting for his escort. Sitting downstairs with his trunk, filled with clothes and books, he played idly with his wand in his hand, staring at Dudley with a nasty sneer on his face. "Hey Dudley," he said quietly, and he leaned forward to leer at him. Unlike his reaction to Sirius's death, with Dumbledore's he only seemed to get crueler to his 'family.' "You know, it would only take two words, and you'd be dead. Two. Words."

Dudley's eyes widened, and he pressed himself back into the couch, swallowing thickly. "Bollocks. Two words never killed anybo–"

"Oh yes they do, Dudders. Do you want to hear them, those two little words? They're _Ava_–"

Harry took a sick pleasure from hearing Dudley scream like a little girl, and he watched him run away in horror before he smiled nastily to himself. Petunia was just coming in to yell at him when there was a knock at the door, and Harry shot her a wicked grin before he got up to answer the door. "Harry!" exclaimed Tonks, who was sporting a neon green mohawk and pink eyes. Harry was quite sure he heard Petunia scream, and he grinned as Tonks seized him in a bear hug. "How's your summer been? Oh, forget it, forget it, we'll talk on the way!" She looked around the house in distaste and shook her head. "Shrink your trunk?"

Harry did as she asked and pocketed his trunk with his wand, which he held tightly on to. Tonks stepped inside the dwelling and wrinkled her nose before she wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulder. "Side-Along Apparition for us today, Harry...It's not safe to fly!" Harry was vaguely aware of his cousin and Petunia staring at them in alarm, and he stuck his tongue out in a most juvenile manner before he felt a harsh tug and the world began to spin around him.

They landed outside of the Order's headquarters, and Harry took a deep breath, not entirely sure he was ready to go inside again. He had not been since fifth year, since he came there looking for Sirius, and he felt his heart ache as Tonks opened the door for him. However, the ache in his heart disappeared when he realised that two of his least favourite people were seated at the table in the kitchen, and he felt a snarl spread over his lips as he raised his wand in fury unlike any he had ever known. "What the bloody fuck are they doing here?!"

* * *

Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy had spent the end of Draco's sixth year and part of the summer in hiding, and so when Snape informed Draco that they had a place to stay, now that the arrangements had been made and compromises found, Draco was just happy to get out of caves. When they came into Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, however, Draco was not entirely sure that it was any better than the caves he had been sleeping in. 

First of all, there was the constant presence of Granger and Weasley, with all of Weasley's siblings and parents, and he felt sick to his stomach any time that he went down for a meal. "Really, Mister Malfoy, you should stay longer than you do at the table," fussed Molly nearly every time he sat down (he never spent more than two minutes in their presence at a time), and he would shoot her the nastiest glare he could -muster. He hated how she tutted and tsked over him, and he hated the way every single one of her present children glared at him any time she did so.

One time, Ron followed him up to his room, and he felt his temper flaring when Ron began to yell, and he slammed the door in his face. He was not interested in talking–not about Dumbledore, not about his father, and especially not about the fact that Potter would be coming to the headquarters any day now. He did not want to hear Potter's name, smell his soap, or see his stupid scarhead.

And so, when Potter zeroed in on him the moment he arrived at the Order headquarters and started cursing, he rested his forehead in his hand and looked up to Molly Weasley, who was frowning distinctly. "Mrs. Weasley, can I get a pint of Firewhiskey?" he asked, and the sound of her squawking at him was just what he needed to lift his spirits enough to lift his head and sneer at Potter in the doorway.

"You're letting out all the heat, Po–" Before he could finish his sentence, Harry had him by the hair, wand pressed to his pale throat and a nasty snarl plastered on Harry's face. He saw Snape, who was there to make a report to Arthur after breakfast, leap up at his side, but he held up his hand and shook his head slightly.

"I asked, what the HELL are you doing here, you murderer?!" Harry screamed, and he was actually angry for the first time since he had left Hogwarts. He could see nothing but red as he jerked Malfoy's hair again, nearly tipping his chair over.

"Potter, release him!" Snape growled, and he simply reached over and snatched Harry's wand from his hand. "Goddamnit, Potter, have you no sense? If Draco were not completely trustworthy, do you honestly believe that he would be allowed residence in the Order headquarters?" Loathing and fury etched every line on Severus's face, and Draco found himself pressed against the table, which was pressing hard into the small of his back. He was trembling inexplicably, quavering hard enough that his hair was waving with the movement, and he hated himself for being afraid like this.

He was in an unfamiliar home with unfamiliar people, including his archnemesis, and he wanted nothing more than to run to his mother, who was also staying in the headquarters. He knew, however, that this would be a very bad, very embarrassing move. While Snape and Harry screamed and accused one another, he found his opportunity to slip out of the kitchen. As he ran past the living room up to his bedroom, he saw Granger watching him with something akin to sympathy on her face, and he wanted to slap her for it.

He wanted to slap himself.

* * *

And so, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were forced to coexist at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Any time Snape came around, Harry had a way of disappearing into his room, and somehow, Harry and Draco never ate meals together. One afternoon, however, when Ron and Harry were seated together at the lunch table with huge grins on their faces from discussing the Quidditch World Cup coming up, Draco happened down for something to drink and the looks melted right off their faces. "Good afternoon," Draco muttered, and he was just beginning to get something out of the refrigerator when he felt the tip of a wand pressed to the back of his neck. "...Potter, stand down." He sounded exhausted, and he looked it. He had not bothered to shower or brush his hair that morning, and so his hair was stuck out in all directions and there was some smudge on his cheek that looked as though it could be either ink or mud. 

"No. NO!" Harry growled, and he pressed himself against Draco, effectively pinning him against the dirty old counter. He reached down and grabbed Draco's wand, tossing it aside with a clatter, and he pressed the tip of his wand so hard against the nape of Draco's neck that one of Draco's vertebrae popped. The blonde winced, and he stared fixedly at the counter-top, wishing that the fat Mrs. Weasley would make her rounds and stop him. "If it weren't for you, Dumbledore would still be here. Why, exactly, should I stand down when you certainly didn't?" Harry said all of this in a low, harsh whisper, and the feel of his mouth so close to Draco's ear made Draco want to drive a wooden stake through the centre of his heart.

"In case you forgot, Potter," he breathed, his eyes fixed on the edge of the counter-top. There was a stain there that looked suspiciously like blood, and he touched it lightly with his fingertip before he glanced over his shoulder to see Harry not three inches away, green eyes on fire with fury. "I did not lay a hand on Dumbledore." These were apparently the wrong words to say, as he yelped when Harry's hands snatched his forearms and wrenched them painfully behind his back. "Let me go, you fucking–OUCH, DAMN YOU!"

Weasley had gotten in on it, coming over to the pair and kicking Draco very, very hard in the back of the knee. Draco yelped and lost all semblance of balance in this awkward position, and he fell forward, smashing his face on the counter-top with a sickening crunch. Tears surged to his eyes, spilling over and mixing with the blood that was very suddenly everywhere, and he opened his mouth and screamed in a very undignified manner, hoping to attract anyone, anyone who might help him. The scream startled Harry and Ron enough that they immediately backed off, and Draco hit the floor choking on his own blood and sobbing. "Fuck," he heard Potter whisper just as the blood trickling down his throat gagged him, and he threw up on the old linoleum.

"Oh, my God!" A different voice, this time–Mrs. Weasley–cut through the thick haze of his thoughts as he watched the scene from the floor. Arthur Weasley had appeared, too, and he was the one to come over to Draco, bloody and beaten, and Draco heard his voice as though it were very far away as he chanted spells over him. Draco's eyes were fixed on Ron and Harry, who were caught by their ears by Molly, and he felt a nasty little smirk come over his face as Molly actually slapped Ron in the face.

He did not know when, exactly, he passed out, but he was thankful for it.

* * *

"What are you boys thinking?" Arthur's voice was low and dangerous as he cornered his son and Harry. They were all sitting at the kitchen table after Arthur had healed Draco's wounds and put him to bed, and it was obvious that Ron and Harry were terrified. Harry had never done anything like that before, had never bullied anyone because of the way Dudley had treated him, and he was appalled at his own actions. Ron did not look as though he regretted it very much though, sitting there with his arms crossed and an angry expression clouding his blue eyes. "I know you two can't stand him, but Dumbledore ordered Snape to bring him and Narcissa into hiding, and you boys should respect that. He is not fighting against you any longer," Arthur reasoned, and he nodded to Molly as she came into the room and sat down beside him. 

"Arthur is right. Draco may be your enemy at school, but here you are on equal terms. I suggest you find a way to work together before he really gets hurt, because if this happens again, you two will be in so much trouble...I can't even express how much trouble you will be in. Draco has a concussion thanks to you! You're bloody lucky Narcissa didn't hex you both into next year!" Molly lectured furiously, and she gave Harry a troubled glare. "And you, Harry...I thought you would be better than this! The both of you are to go apologise to him immediately!"

Ron gave a harsh, barking laugh and pushed away from the table, shaking his head and leaving the room. Harry heard him burst out laughing properly in the next room, and he gazed into the angry, disappointed faces of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. He felt terrible–not for Draco, but for disappointing the only parents he had left–and he gave a nod. "I'll apologise," he said, though they all knew that his apology would be completely insincere. Arthur and Molly seemed satisfied, however, as he rose form the table and begrudgingly made his way up the old, creaky wooden stairs to the mildly warped door that was Draco's.

He did not even knock on the door before he entered, and he suddenly felt very subdued in the mild light of the room. Draco was in bed, facing away from him and curled up, and Harry was very, very embarrassed as he walked as quietly as he could over to the bedside and cleared his throat. "Er, Malfoy?" he whispered, hoping he wouldn't wake up. Draco made no movement at all, and Harry sighed with relief. Molly never said that he had to apologise while Draco was awake, and so he would apologise now while Draco was still unconscious. "Sorry about that. You deserved it, really, for being such a prat, nearly getting me and all my friends killed, and then having the balls to seek shelter in my home...but I'm sorry, nonetheless. At least, I'm supposed to say that." He smiled triumphantly and turned around to walk out when he heard the sheets sigh with Draco's movement, and his face fell.

"Buttering me up isn't going to do you any fucking good, Potter. If I weren't being constantly herded by Mum, I'd have you on your face so fast you wouldn't have a clue how I'd done it, but fortunately for you, I can't fight back as long as I am being protected. Do me a favour, Potter–just leave me the hell alone," he whispered dangerously, and he smirked to himself as Harry's shoulders froze. "Just walk out, Potter."

The last thing he expected was for Harry to suddenly be on the bed, snarling as he pinned Draco down to the mattress with his hands around his throat. He opened his mouth, but one of Harry's hands moved quickly to cover it, and Draco watched helplessly as Harry got no more than an inch away from touching the tips of their noses. "Listen to me, Malfoy," Harry hissed through his teeth, and he leaned on his hands a little so Draco's throat was crushed. Draco was choking and spitting against his hand, and Harry took a small pleasure in watching him turn beet red before he allowed him breath. "My house, my rules, and you'll be staying behind the scenes, no matter what the Weasleys say. Got it?" He pulled his hand away from Draco's mouth just slightly to allow him an answer.

Draco took advantage of the situation and lifted his head up suddenly to latch his teeth onto Harry's hand, tasting blood in his mouth as Harry's screams filled the claustrophobia-inducing room, and he heard footsteps running up the stairs as he dug his teeth in as hard as he could. He could not feel Harry's other hand jerking at his hair, pulling out handfuls, and he only released his bear-trap grip when Arthur and Molly appeared in the doorway, looking confused and infuriated. He opened his mouth, blood smeared on his chin and lips, and he blew a nasty kiss to Harry before the boy was hauled out of the room. He saw the horrified look on Molly's face, and he sneered at her before rolling back over in bed and closing his eyes.

He would sleep well that night, and when he woke up, Draco had a plan.

* * *

"Severus, can I talk to you?" He padded barefoot down to breakfast the next morning, looking strangely happy even though he received many nasty glares from the Weasley litter perched around the table. He was still rumpled from sleeping that morning, having not even bothered to change clothes or tidy up at all, and Snape gave him a very strange look for it. "I don't want to talk out here, though...We'll need to speak privately." He interpreted Severus's silence for assent, and so he led him out of the kitchen and up to his bedroom, where he shut, locked, and placed a silencing charm on the door. 

Severus eyed the security measures warily, and he leaned back against the door. He had no problem being casual with his godson, and he offered the slightest smile to the messy boy. "Something we don't want the salt of the earth to hear, Draco?" he inquired, and he watched as Draco pulled out a chair from the small desk in the room and placed himself in it. "Must be either important or illegal..."

"Sectumsempra," Draco stated, and he watched the look on his godfather's face switch from amused to confused. "You found it, but I couldn't find it anywhere. It's fucking brilliant when you're not on the receiving end...So where is it from?" He leaned forward, intensely curious. He knew his godfather would indulge him, and he grinned as Severus obviously thought about it very hard.

"I was in sixth year...I'd snuck a few books from your grandparents' library, I recall, and I found a potion called Sectumsempra Animi, which is as strong or stronger than Amortentia but banned from creation by the Ministry. It was a love potion, so named because it would shred the soul of the victim, and unlike Amortentia, the effect of the love potion lasts until either the giver of the potion falls in love with the victim, which makes it perfect for archnemeses who are just begging to be embarrassed, or until the giver administers a second dose, which acts as an antidote. I liked the thought of shredding," he laughed, and he was pleased that Draco wrinkled his nose and giggled right along, "but I didn't like the idea of a love potion. Sectumsempra is the word whispered over the person to whom the potion is administered immediately after they drink it, and if they have the potion in their system, it will set the potion in their veins. It turns out, the incantation without the potion has the effect you are very familiar with. Endlessly fascinating, I believe, it is that a spell intended for a love potion on its own has such a drastic effect otherwise. It says something of the nature of love potions."

Draco grinned–it was really fascinating that love and destruction were so closely tied. It was like this in more than one potion, he had noticed upon studying love potions for an extra-credit project the year before. "Could you find that book? The one with the potion? I want to see it," he breathed, and he kept on grinning through the odd look Severus was suddenly giving him. "Don't look at me like that...You know how I enjoy studying potions. I've got to keep ahead of the Mudblood and the Weasel, don't I? I'm especially interested in this one, for obvious reasons, I should think."

Severus was troubled, as Draco did not often ask for things like this without an ulterior motive, but he was in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, and there was only so much damage he could do without someone taking notice. "Fine," he sighed, and he offered the boy a smile as the charms on the door were released. "I'll get it for you by the end of the evening. How's your head?" He had only heard about the incident from Molly that morning, and the Weasley boy received a nasty warning from him before breakfast.

"It's fine...I have a bit of a headache, but other than that, I think I'm all right. Fucking Potter, thinking he owns the place..."

"He does."

"Touché."

* * *

Severus delivered the book as promised that evening before Draco went to bed, and so Draco spent almost all evening in bed with the book, talking to himself. "Ashwinders' eggs, lovage, peppermint, fluxweed, powdered moonstone...This is simple," he whispered, and he found himself thrilled that he had stolen many of the ingredients from the student store cupboard the year before. "All I need are frozen Ashwinders' eggs...Simple enough." 

And so, the very next morning, he sent the Apothecary in Diagon Alley two Galleons and a note explaining what he wanted, and would they please send it by express owl and they could keep the change. He was pleased that the eggs arrived the morning after, and, in a very small cauldron he kept hidden in his closet, he began to work on the potion. It was very simple indeed, requiring a minimal number of ingredients that were easy to obtain, and he knew that the only reason this potion would never be made at Hogwarts was because it was banned by the Ministry, and the apothecary would not sell Ashwinders' eggs to students. When he added them to the potion, it released a heavily-perfumed scent that made him lightheaded, and he blinked for a few moments before he added the peppermint stems, which completely changed the nature of the potion. It made it smell like grass with a hint of freshly-dug dirt, and he took a deep whiff of the concoction before he added the rest of the ingredients. They did nothing but change the colour, and he grinned to himself as it brewed.

When he put stoppers into two vials of the caramel-coloured potion, he grinned and stashed them in his bedside table. He waited.

* * *

He let it sit for a month, simply because he could not find a perfect situation when he could lure Potter up to his room or get him alone. It was simply atrocious, how desperately Potter clung to his friends, and so Draco waited and waited, as patient as the cat waiting to pounce. Their rivalries did not ease in the time during which the potion lay in wait, and though there were no more serious injuries, there was plenty of yelling. Arthur and Molly worked tirelessly in an attempt to keep a relatively peaceful atmosphere in the house, which they discovered worked perfectly whenever the boys ate, slept, and led their lives at different times of the day. Draco found this extremely inconvenient, and so whenever Arthur and Molly left one afternoon, Draco pocketed his potion and went in search of Harry. 

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place was much bigger than he had ever imagined when he first arrived at the beginning of the summer, and so he began at the front of the house. He could hear Walburga Black praising him lightly as he walked past her portrait, and he smiled at her before moving close. "Seen the Potter prat?" he asked in whisper, and he gave a harsh little laugh as she pointed him towards the Black family library. "Thank you..."

He prowled silently to the library, and he was immensely pleased to find that the door was cracked. He peeked inside–Potter was asleep on the couch, mouth hanging open and one hand gracing the floor with its presence–and gave a nasty sneer before he pushed the door open slowly, so it would not creak. Potter did not stir in the slightest, and Draco was pleased to walk right into the library and kneel over his archnemesis with no effect on the boy's slumber. He waved his wand over his prone body, casting a Partial Body-Bind curse that immobilized Harry from the shoulders down. A wicked grin spread over his face as Harry's eyes shot open, and Draco sat on the couch beside him. "Why Potter, how nice of you to wake up," he breathed, and he grinned at the bewildered look on Harry's face. "Don't bother screaming. We're alone."

"Let me go, you son of a bitch," Harry rasped, voice thick with sleep, and his eyes narrowed as Draco pulled a potion like liquid caramel out of his robes. "What the fuck is tha–" And suddenly, it was in his mouth, warm like single-malt scotch, and he tried to spit it out a moment before Draco slapped a hand over his mouth and held his nose shut.

"Oh no, Potter, this is for you. Swallow...SWALLOW!" he yelled, and he was pleased when Harry complied. The startled look in Harry's eyes was completely priceless as Draco leaned over him, pressing close, and he moved his mouth very close to Harry's ear. "For Sectumsempra," he hissed, and at the second word, Harry's pupils dilated, and Draco released the Body-Bind curse just in time to allow Harry to fall to the floor, doubled over as the potion spread like molten lava through his veins, and Draco sat beside him, one hand on his back. "Breathe...Just breathe, Potter..."

Harry choked and coughed, a string of dark mucous hanging from his lips, and he wiped it shakily away with the back of his hand before he moved to glare nastily at Draco. "What was..." He trailed off at the sight of Draco, knelt beside him with the softest little sneer on his plump, pink lips. They were slightly damp, maybe from sweat, and Harry could feel the hand on his back sending electrical pulses through his body. "You...I..." He was stammering insensibly, and he shut himself up when Draco's sneer seemed to transform into a beautiful, angelic smile, and he lay a hand on Draco's knee. "Hi...You gave me a potion, and..."

"Obliviate!"

Harry slumped into Draco's arms, and Draco struggled to lie him back on the couch, brushing his hair away from his sweaty face, and, wanting to make sure the potion had worked, he waved his wand over his body again. "Ennervate!" he whispered, and he narrowed his eyes as Harry began to stir.

"Mmmn..." Harry stretched his arms out luxuriously, giving a huge yawn and smacking his lips loudly before he opened his brilliant green eyes and immediately locked on Draco. "What are you doing?" he asked, and he found that he could insert no amount of malice into these words. The gentle light from the window seemed to set Draco's hair aflame with heavenly light, and he reached up a shaky hand to brush it back behind Draco's ear. "There. That's better."

Draco's eyes lit up, and he leaned down very close to Harry with a wrinkled nose and a pretty little smile. "Perfect, isn't it?" he whispered in a malicious tone, and when Harry grinned and tilted his chin up, Draco lay a finger across his lips. "No, no...No kisses for Potter. You like how my fingers feel on your arm?" The fervent nod Harry gave in that moment made Draco laugh, and he leaned in close to touch the very tip of his nose to Harry's cheek. "Good...Because that's all you get."

And then, Draco was gone and Harry felt as though the world had ended.

His eyes grew wide, and he sat up, heat engulfing his body, and he shakily pushed back his hair. "Ma-Draco?" he called quietly, and he felt himself jumping off the couch, shaking and gasping for breath. Draco was gone too quickly, should have stayed, should have been there to touch and to kiss and to–

Something was wrong with him. He wracked his brain, trying to remember what happened before he fell asleep, and he panicked. He remembered lying down on the couch, furious that they would leave him alone with Malfoy, and when he woke up, he had never been more in love. It was terribly lonely, terrible...terrible. His heart was hammering against his ribcage, and he reached for the doorknob of the library in a panic. "Oh God..."

He found Draco at the kitchen table, and he tripped over his own large, clumsy feet as he attempted to get to him. When he reached the table, the look of horrible disdain that Draco shot him pierced him to the soul, and he raised his hands to his lips, taking a step back. "Are you angry with me?"

"Inexplicably," Draco hissed, and he rose to his feet, stepping close to Harry and grinning nastily as he became all but putty in his hands when he grabbed his forearms. "I want nothing to do with you, Potter. Ever." And Draco threw Harry's arms to his sides and made a disgusted sound just before he ran from the room, leaving Harry on the floor in a devastated heap.

Draco had never known such power.

* * *


	2. Advantage

**Author's note**: Enjoy chapter two! You will need to venture to my private journal in order to view the last part of this chapter, which is way too NC-17 for My Livejournal URL is located in my profile, and the chapter will be posted in full in the post under my sticky post.

**And now, Sakai Michiba presents:  
Sectumsempra Animi  
Chapter Two**

* * *

Hermione began to notice that something was different about Harry the very next morning. Well, specifically, it was not Harry that she noticed was acting differently, but Malfoy. For the first time in many weeks, Malfoy graced the breakfast table with his snarky presence and, to Hermione's utter shock and confusion, sat down immediately beside his dark-haired arch-foe. She waited for the sparks to fly, the curses to be cast, but there was a distinct lack of all that...a distinct lack of anything at all, really, that would be expected were Draco Malfoy to take a seat next to Harry Potter on any other morning; however, there was something there that had never, ever, ever been present before, Hermione noted. 

Harry was smiling, ever-so-slightly, at Draco. She dropped the glass of orange juice in her hand, which promptly hit the table with a sickening crack the split second before it shattered on the hard wood and flooded the table in chilled, muted orange. "Oh, Merlin, I'm sorry," she whispered, flustered, and when she began to lift her wand to clean it up, she attempted to meet Harry's emerald gaze in question. To her utter dismay, however, she saw that Harry was rather absorbed in watching Draco's fork moving about on his plate, playing with his food more than eating it, and she cleared her throat.

Draco could ignore the spilled orange juice and the whispering from the Mudblood, but the moment she cleared her throat with the most grating, irritating sound, he lifted his eyes and narrowed them at her in disgust, a little sneer curling the left side of his upper lip. "Really, we're at the table, Granger. Could you hack up a lung somewhere else?" he drawled lazily before he promptly speared a sausage with his ancient silver fork and inspected it for a moment. He brought it close to his mouth, his delicate little tongue daring to slip out to tentatively give it a taste, and when he found it acceptable for consumption, he took the end in his mouth and sucked it right off the fork with a little pop.

Harry thought he was going to cream himself as he watched Draco's naughty little affair with the breakfast sausage, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat when Draco licked it. He could have sworn that Draco caught his eye for only a tiny moment while he was putting that dirty little tongue on display, and then Draco sucked the sausage in, and Harry groaned very softly into the palm of his hand before he tried to focus on his food. After all, they certainly were not the only people at the table, and he was sure he could see Hermione and Ginny eyeing him from across the table. He needed to say something terrible to Malfoy, something that would convince them everything was all right even though it was not. He pulled his hand away and opened his mouth, looking for something, anything, to say, and he came up with, "You uh...l-look like you have experience with that, D-Malfoy." Lame. He felt his cheeks flush, and he wanted to look down, but then he would not only be confronted with his semi-hard cock pressing against his zip, but he would lose face in front of the girls.

Draco smirked when Potter spoke up in his simpering, shaking voice, and he looked over to him, seeing Granger and the baby Weasel staring intently at the two of him. He suspected that they were trying to figure what, exactly, Harry's brain malfunction was all about, and so he decided to give them a little something more to think about. He leaned in close to Potter, very close, so the tips of their noses were nearly touching. His eyes turned vicious, and in the nastiest, most vicious tone he could muster, he spat, "Perhaps I do, perhaps I don't. You wish I had experience, don't you, Potter? For now, I suppose you'll just have to be watching, you filthy Mudblood spawn." He was pleased to note that when he spoke his last word, it was enunciated with spittle, which found a new home on Harry's slightly parted lips. He looked the Gryffindor up and down, appearing utterly disgusted, and he was silently amused by the fact that, instead of wiping the spit away, Harry's tongue swiped it up greedily. Oh, this was just too rich.

"M-Mudblood?" Harry whispered absently, and Draco stared at him. This love potion had really done quite the number on Harry, and if he weren't so dependent on the potion being a secret, he would have gloated to the Weasel and Granger. "Don't call me that." It was without conviction that Harry spoke these words, and the look of poorly-disguised infatuation in Harry's emerald green eyes was missed by no one. Harry looked to the right, seeing Hermione and Ron staring, transfixed, on the scene before them, and he knew that he had to get out of there. He had to flee before they began asking questions, before Draco actually touched him and set his skin on fire. Harry stood up so quickly that his thighs banged painfully against the table, but he ignored the throbbing pain just under his hips before giving Draco a painfully longing look before his feet carried him so quickly from the room that he nearly stubbed his toe on the doorframe.

Hermione, Ron, and Draco sat together around the table in a few moments of intense silence before Hermione cleared her throat in a way not unlike the annoying, "Hem, hem!" of Dolores Umbridge in their fifth year. Draco glared at her over his glass of orange juice, and he shook his head before setting it down on the table with a soft thud. "Yes, Granger?" Draco asked nastily, poison dripping from his voice, and his eyes glared daggers into her chest. She was lucky, he thought, that a look could not kill, or she would be bleeding on the filthy floor.

Hermione shot a dark look to Ron before she twisted her hands in her lap, not entirely sure how to begin this conversation. Draco Malfoy was so out of place in the headquarters, and she knew he must already feel awkward, but she did not want to show any compassion for the purist, certainly. She did not feel sorry for him or anything of the sort, but they did have to coexist, regardless of how they felt for one another. "Look, Malfoy," she said quietly, looking up to meet his eyes. This move, she felt, would register as bold with Draco, and hopefully it would force his attention to remain on her. "You can't just go insulting Harry like that...Just because he isn't Pureblooded doesn't mean..." She trailed off and shook her head. This was not the time for their age-old fight, and she could see the self-righteous fury combust behind grey irises. "Well, Malfoy, it's his house. He's allowing you to stay here, really, and it's right good of hi–"

"Allowing me to stay here?" Draco asked in a low, disbelieving tone, then he seemed to explode in peals of mad, raucous laughter. Hermione appeared taken aback, and it seemed as though the sudden burst of laughter from the blonde had force enough to flatten her against the back of her straight-backed, wooden chair. "Don't fool yourself, Granger! Potter wouldn't kick me out of here if I jinxed him to be permanently attached to that wall!" He gestured to the greasy wallpaper near the old stove and slumped in his chair, appearing to be completely worn out by his laughing fit. "Oh, Granger, you really are too funny...I say, why don't you just go ask Potter whether he wants me here or not?"

Ron had had quite enough by this point, and he stood abruptly to his feet. His shin knocked painfully into the table leg, and his ears flared pink as he fought back a string of curses, and he endured the sharp bark of laughter from Malfoy before sneering nastily at him. "Of course Harry doesn't want you here! The only reason you're even here is because Dumbledore took pity on your scrawny ferret-face and told my father to bring you and your whore of a mother–"

"Don't you fucking talk–"

"Yes, I called her a WHORE!" Ron interjected fiercely, and he jerked his wand out of his pocket. "Just because he said to bring you here if something happened to him–"

"SHE'S NOT A FUCKING–"

"YES SHE IS AND YOU'RE NOT MUCH DIFFERENT!" Ron bellowed, and he pushed around the table to Draco, who was now standing with his wand at the ready, and Ron drew his own wand before the two boys immediately were only an inch apart. However, it was quite unlike the inch that Harry and Draco had shared, for this inch was pregnant with malice, intent to kill, and Hermione was on her feet as well. "She's a whore and she can't control her husband or her little shit of a son. If you didn't exist...Fuck, if you didn't exist, Dumbledore would still be–"

"I DID NOT KILL DUMBLEDORE!" Draco screamed so hard that his lungs ached in his ribcage. His wand was now shoved tip-first into Ron's stomach, pressing a painful inch into the muscle with more pressure being applied at the other end. He found his throat suffering a similar fate at the hand of Ron's wand, and he jerked his leg up to shove Ron back abruptly. Ron nearly fell off-balance, but Hermione caught him with the reflexes of a young cat. This moment of weakness allowed Draco to take the advantage, and he stepped forward aggressively. "I did not kill him, and Snape killed him UNDER ORDERS FROM DUMBLEDORE HIMSELF to protect ALL of you! I could have killed him! I could have but I took the way favouring my existence, thank you very fucking much!"

Ron stared with the deepest loathing into Malfoy's eyes for a few moments before he hisssed, "None of us fucking care, Malfoy! You'd be better off dead!" And with this, he leapt out of Hermione's grasp and seized a shocked Malfoy around the knees. Both boys splattered onto the floor behind Draco, wands cast aside and forgotten as Ron pinned the pale boy to his back with his knees and punched him every inch he could reach. Hermione screamed and tried to snatch one of Ron's arms in an attempt to control him, but he shoved her away and yelled in a fashion most prehistoric as he did his very best to reduce Malfoy to a bloody mass.

Harry heard Ron scream, and immediately, he left his newfound place in the drawing room to throw himself down the hallway towards the kitchen. He heard Molly rushing in the same direction, and when he entered the kitchen to see Hermione trying her hardest to prise Ron away from Malfoy, who was shrieking in rage and doing his best to fight back despite being pinned down. "GET OFF OF HIM!" Harry shouted, and he hardly saw Ron smile at him, knowing that Ron assumed that he was yelling at Draco, but Harry fisted a handful of Ron's red hair and dragged him off of Draco, who sat up shakily, tears streaming down his face from adrenaline, and he pushed Ron in to Hermione, glaring. "What do you think you're doing?!"

Molly bustled in a second later and launched herself immediately at Ron, yelling in a way too reminiscent of the Howler she sent in their second year, but Harry turned his back on them before looking down at Draco. His gaze immediately softened as he saw Draco trembling and bleeding there on the wooden floor, and he reached down a hand to him. "He's broken your nose," he whispered as he pulled Draco to his feet and a little closer than was necessary, but no one seemed to notice. "_Episkey_!" He watched as Draco's nose rearranged itself on his face, and he smiled at the grimace this spell effected from Draco. "There...I'd go wash if I were you." Harry felt particularly warm, having just healed Draco, done him any sort of good, and he rather felt like staying this closely pressed to Draco despite the fact that his friends were right there. "Er...Can I come along?"

Draco wiped the blood from his face on the back of his hand and have a thick swallow before he sneered, undignified, at Harry. "No thanks, Potter." And with that, he did his best to make a regal exit, despite the blood dripping from his chin. Harry's shoulders slumped, unseen by anyone but Hermione. She stepped around Molly, who was still yelling herself hoarse at Ron, and walked up behind Harry. Her hand raised slowly, and she hesitated for a few seconds before she lay her hand on the curve of Harry's right shoulder.

"Harry?" she inquired in whisper, so close to him that her breasts pressed lightly against his back. She did not notice. "Harry, what's going on?"

"Nothing." He drew sharply away from her, feeling indecent that she should feel so free with him that she could touch him in such a way. "It's nothing." It certainly was not, and he knew that he was hardly fooling her, but he did not care. He thought for a moment about turning up the stairs to attempt to find Draco and reason with him, but the image of Draco's cold sneer and hating eyes materialised on the back of his eyelids, and he felt sick.

Harry was not entirely sure how he ended up in the courtyard of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, but the next thing he knew, he was bent over the ill-kept flowerbed, wrenching weeds out of the ground. Small showers of dirt peppered the too-high grass, and he threw the weeds into a small pile behind him. Sweat beaded on his forehead, not because the sun was beating down upon him, but because all he could think about was Draco sprawled out on the kitchen floor, looking helpless and thoroughly in need of him, Harry. He pushed his sweaty hair away from his forehead with a filthy hand, spreading mud over his skin, but he did not even notice. No, it would be Draco's hand moving across his skin, Draco's hand moving down to caress his cheek, his neck, his chest, his stomach.

"Harry?" Ginny appeared in the doorway for a moment, seeing Harry perspiring copiously as he pulled crabgrass from the once-beautiful flowerbed. When he did not answer, nay, did not even seem to hear her, she frowned and stepped out into the courtyard. She outstretched a hand as Hermione had moments before, and she walked up behind him to run her small fingers through his wet hair. "Practising Herbology?" she asked with a little smile.

Harry froze when he felt fingers in his hair outside of his daydream, and he whipped around in shock, half-expecting to see Draco standing there, wanting him, but it was just Ginny, and his face obviously fell. "Hi, Ginny," he whispered, and he turned back to the flowerbed. A pink earthworm was poking its head out of the soil and wriggling, and Harry stared at it as he felt Ginny's arms slide around his shoulders. When she pressed herself against his back, the sense of disgust he had felt with Hermione was not present, but he did not find himself enjoying the soft swell of her breasts as he had just a few months before. "What are you doing?"

Ginny smiled and rested her chin on Harry's shoulder from behind, inhaling the earthy scent of his hands and face. "I'm just bored. There's nothing to do here...You're obviously enjoying yourself, though," she whispered against his ear, and she hesitated for a moment before she pressed her lips to his salty neck. She felt Harry stiffen in her arms, but she took it as a sign that he was shy, and she trailed the tip of her button nose up his neck and to the pressure point just below his ear, where she pressed another kiss. "Harry, I miss you." She allowed her lips to brush his ear when she said this, and she let her arms slip down around his waist.

Harry closed his eyes and remained still in her arms, not saying anything as she kissed him, but then she was pulling him back onto his arse, turning him around and cupping his cheek in her palm. "Ginny?" he asked uncertainly, his voice trembling lightly, but then she pressed her lips to his while entwining her finger in his hair, and he was sure he felt his heart stop. While her tongue slipped between his lips and he instinctively kissed back, he saw over her shoulder a pair of chilling grey eyes glaring at him from a second-story window. His hands immediately shoved Ginny back, toppling her over into the pile of weeds, and he stared into Draco's eyes across the courtyard.

Ginny sat up, eyes wide, and she plucked a few leaves and twigs from her hair before she followed Harry's gaze to see nothing but an empty window. A troubled feeling washed over her, and she tried to lean in to kiss Harry again, but he suddenly raised his palm to her, and she found herself pressing her face into the earth stuck to his skin. "Gross! Harry!" she spluttered, and she slapped his arm away before glaring at him. "Harry, listen...We're not going back to school, and I'm not going to be going on any Order missions...Why can't we be together, Harry?" She had no desire to beat around the bush any longer, and she crossed her legs in the grass.

When Draco disappeared from the window just as he stopped kissing Ginny, Harry switched his attention to her, and the question she inquired of him made him flush not with embarrassment but anger. "Ginny, it's not a question of you being on missions!" he exclaimed, looking at her with one eye more narrowed than the other. It was a calculating look, a furious look that made Ginny shrink back instinctively from him. "What if they found out about this place? What if they came in and found you and took you to get to me? You think they wouldn't? They would know!" He had rehearsed this so much in his head this summer, but when it came out of his mouth, the pain he expected to accompany it was nonexistent. "They...They would use you as a weapon, Ginny, and I couldn't do that to myself or Ron or your Mum. Besides...I'm over it." It was as much of a revelation to him as it was to her, and he saw the tears rise up in her eyes without any pain in his chest.

"Over it?" Ginny asked weakly, and she scooted back over the grass with a nasty flutter in her stomach. "How can you be...Harry, that doesn't make any sense!" As was typical with her brothers, when she was upset, she became angry, and Harry thought she rather looked like Ron with the baffled expression on her freckled face. "How can you be over it?! It's hardly over!"

Ron, having just escaped from Molly, heard Ginny becoming frantic in the courtyard, and he strode over to the window to look out at his little sister and his best friend. He could see even from his distance the tears threatening to fall down her cheeks, and he swallowed hard. He and Hermione had been expecting this conversation between Harry and Ginny all summer, and he was not entirely sure that he wanted to watch the train wreck, but he found himself unable to look away.

"It's been over for months, Ginny! Look, I don't even...I don't even want to think about being with you! I'm not compromising everything I've been working for, everything the Order's been working for just so you can be happy!" It was cruel for him to say, merciless even, but it was so easy to say when he felt neither one way nor the other about her feelings on the matter. Ginny was a friend, but not his best, and he meant every word he said to her. "It's one person's happiness versus the wizarding world's happiness, and I'm afraid..."

"Shut up!" Ginny sobbed, and she scrambled to her feet. "Just shut up! I...Fuck you, Harry Potter!" And Harry watched as Ginny fled the courtyard, tears streaming and knees dirty. He frowned deeply a moment before he looked up to the window where Draco was previously standing, and there was a jolt in his stomach as he realised that Draco was gazing at him again.

Draco felt himself sneering when Potter looked up to him, and he opened the window and leaned out of it. "Breaking hearts, Potter?" he snarled, and he wrinkled his nose at the sight of mud smeared across Potter's face. "Making the Weasel girl cry? I saw her kiss you...How do you think I feel about that?" The wind caught his hair, whipping it around his face, and he tucked a rogue lock behind his ear.

Harry felt his heart pounding as Draco opened the window, and he felt his cheeks flush. "I...I didn't kiss her back," he called up to the blonde, and he had the sudden urge to strip naked and bask in the sun. Perhaps it would seduce Draco...but then again, he might find it too slutty, which would have the opposite desired effect, and he certainly did not want that. Harry settled for lying down on his side in the grass, his shirt hitching up just enough to reveal a thin strip of flesh just above the hip. "I swear I didn't, Draco...I didn't mean to do–" Draco waved an arm and shook his head, and Harry immediately fell silent, his eyes following the path of Draco's hand. He had beautiful hands...

"How do you think I feel about looking out here to see you snogging the Weasel girl? You didn't even try to hide it from me...What's wrong with you?!" He leaned even further out the window, his eyes filled with indescribable rage. To Harry, he knew it would be a torturous look, the look of a man who felt himself betrayed, but to Draco, the rage boiling in his veins was owed to the fact that Potter just existed. "I'm hurt, Potter...I don't think we can see each other anymore..."

If Draco had expected a small reaction, he was incorrect in doing so. Harry looked immediately stricken, devastated, and Draco was taken aback by the look of utter despair on Harry's face. "Y-you don't...Draco, we can't just stop!" Harry protested, and Draco thought he saw the shimmer of tears in those green eyes. "How can you say that? I...I got rid of her for you! I don't care anymore about protecting my friends, just–"

"Just what, Potter? You just want to protect me?" Draco sneered nastily, wrinkling his nose. Potter was pathetic, possibly the most pathetic creature he had ever seen. "You want to kill the Dark Lord so I won't have to hide anymore?"

"No!" Harry growled, his heart pounding as the sunlight caught Draco's hair. "I just want to be with you!" This confession seemed painful for Harry, and Draco arched an elegant eyebrow before he cleared his throat in his fist and smiled very softly. The smile was, to Harry, the equivalent of a blessing from God, and he felt his heart threatening to burst from his chest when Draco reached out of the window and held a hand down to Harry from the second-story window. "I can't reach you from there..."

Draco snorted. "Not much of a wizard, are you?" he chortled haughtily, and he followed Harry with his eyes as the Gryffindor half-crawled across the courtyard to the trodden-down flowerbed beneath it. Harry's hand stretched up, and Draco saw the other boy's cheeks flush red as their fingertips scarcely brushed. "Come on, then..." And he flicked his wand, hissing, '_Levicorpus_!' in his mind and giving a scathing laugh as Potter flew up into the air by his ankle, which Draco promptly caught. The spell seemed to render Potter weightless, which was advantageous in that Draco never would have been able to drag him in through the window in any other way. '_Liberacorpus_!' Draco thought with another wand flick, and Harry fell to the wooden floor of the bedroom in a sweaty, muddy heap. "Now, go clean yourself up, Potter, then come back here and we will talk."

* * *

Harry returned to the outside of Draco's bedroom around an hour later, freshly showered and dressed. He had spent more time in the shower than normal, leaning his head against the cool tile wall and closing his eyes. Every time Draco touched him, it was like an ache in his soul disappeared, and he _just didn't understand why_. Last week, he knew that he did not feel anything towards Malfoy save for aggression and anger, but now it was as though he needed Draco to be around, to be in the room, to be close and smiling. He could not figure out why, exactly, every word that Draco spoke seemed to be the force causing his heart to continue beating, why every time Draco left the room, he died a little, or why Draco's usually nasty words cut him right to the soul. 

He paused outside of the door, his hand poised to knock on the gleaming oak that Mrs. Weasley had done such a wonderful job of refinishing, and he considered turning his back now and not going to see Draco that evening. Perhaps it would coax Draco to him, make Draco want to be with him more, and then, just maybe, Draco could understand what it was like every time Harry was left alone. Yet, despite these rebellious thoughts, Harry's knuckles rapped on the door firmly, and he heard a soft, "Come in..." from inside. He took a deep, steadying breath, and he opened the door to step over the threshold.

It was impossibly dark in the room, especially because it was the middle of the day. The curtains were drawn, but there was obviously a spell cast on them to prevent any light from penetrating between the fibres of the cloth. Harry closed the door and squinted through the darkness, trying to locate Draco, and he heard the sound of soft blankets rustling to his left. Instinctively, he turned to the noise, but just as he began to take a step forward, he heard, "_Incarcerous_!" He had no time to cast the Shield Charm before thick roped burst from the source of the voice, and he hit the wall so hard he saw stars in the blackness. The ropes bound him seamlessly to the wall, and he thought of struggling for the moment before he felt warm, moist breath on his face, and all thoughts of fighting fled.

Draco grinned as he heard Harry fall still in his bindings, and he stood very close, just inches away from touching the other boy. "It took you long enough, Potter," he drawled lazily, and he lit the tip of his wand just brightly enough so he and Harry could see one another in the pressing darkness. Draco's index finger of his left hand rose, and the blonde heard Potter's breath hitch as he traced the pad of his fingertip across his throat. "You like to be touched, Potter?"

"Y-yes..." Harry's voice was hoarse, as though he had just been running a marathon, and he moaned softly as Draco's finger traced the path from his clavicle to his ear. The bindings around his body twisted, forming different knots, and Harry felt his entire body begin to tremble when Draco reached above him. There was a long pause during which they stared one another in the eyes, and just when Harry thought Draco might kiss him, Draco's hand came down, one of the ropes enclosed inside, and he pulled Harry's mouth open before inserting the rope between his teeth. The spell's reaction was instantaneous–Harry's head was jerked back against the wall again, and he choked slightly around the silken gag Draco had provided him. Uncertainty screamed protests in his mind, but he suppressed the thoughts and watched, wide-eyed, as Draco lifted his wand again.

"Scared, Potter? I would be if I were you...but no harm will come to you as long as you do not resist." Draco's voice was as soft and silky as the rope in Harry's mouth, and Harry shuddered violently with the force of these words. He was not at all afraid of Draco; moreover, he was absolutely positive that Draco would take care of him properly. Therefore, when Draco's wand pressed to his chest where his finger had been a moment before, Harry was shocked, and he murmured unintelligibly against his gag with an inquiring tone. "Shh..." This was whispered against his ear, and he shuddered just as Draco began to run the tip of the wand along Harry's body.

He must have cast Diffindo nonverbally, for as Harry was just wondering if Draco would press just an inch closer to close the gap between their bodies, he felt his clothes falling away in strips. Green eyes widened unseen in the dark, and his breath heavily quickened as he was rendered naked by the person he most wanted to see him in such a state. He was suddenly aware of the draft in the room, and gooseflesh rose on his arms and chest as Draco took a step back and lit his wand again, this time more brightly, and the room was gently lit as though by many candles. "Now, Potter..." Draco's eyes washed over Harry's nude body, which was favourably lit by the wand, and he smiled before he moved back to half-lie on the bed. There was a brief flash of darkness, then Draco conjured several floating candles that seemed to cast light on only he and Potter. "You've got quite a nice body, Potter...What do you think of mine?"

* * *

**Please visit** http://www.sakaim. **to view the rest of this chapter. Warnings: bondage, violence, self-pleasure, and lots of sexy things.**


	3. Fantasy

**Now, Sakai Michiba presents:  
Sectumsempra Animi  
Chapter Three**

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_

Draco's silver eyes were half-lidded as he drew close, his lithe form pressing flush against Harry in the full-sized bed tucked away on the second floor of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Harry's heart was pounding in his throat as Draco's hands slid sensually up from Harry's arse to his lower back, his fingers pulling the hem of his shirt up and away from the skin so his fingertips could trace tiny circles just above his tailbone. "I could stay right here forever," Draco breathed, his mouth pressed right up against Harry's ear, and Harry moaned shakily as he felt his body giving in to Draco. "You like when I tease you, don't you, Harry?"

"_Say it again," Harry suddenly choked out in a quavering whisper, green eyes wide with want. "Call me by my name again, Draco..." Draco never called him 'Harry', never had, and so the whisper of it against his skin sent desperately aching shivers down his spine. He felt Draco shake his head, his lips brushing against Harry's neck, and Harry's mouth opened as two pale fingers pressed to his lips and then inside his mouth, probing his tongue. His tongue complied and swirled around them, tasting sugar and a hint of lemon from their evening tea, and when Draco's fingers disappeared from his mouth and made their appearance suddenly known sliding back the hem of Harry's sleeping pants and wrapping around the base of his pulsing cock, Harry whimpered and pressed their foreheads together._

"_Harry, Harry..." Draco whispered Harry's name with every movement of his hand in Harry's underwear, trailing kisses down from the hollow of his throat towards his bellybutton. The black-haired boy rolled onto his back and spread his legs and he felt his pants being pulled off, his hips arching up instinctively as he felt Draco's luscious lips suckling on his jutting hip. The was the lightly alarming sensation of Draco's teeth scraping the pale flesh, of neatly-manicured fingernails finding a special spot to the left of Harry's scrotum that just undid him, and he knew the moment that Draco's wet, slutty little mouth latched onto the head of his dick that he was not long for this world. "Come for me, Harry...Come all over me..."_

_Harry did not to be told twice. His hips jerked suddenly off the bed and he yelped into Draco's palm, which was suddenly over his mouth, and he kissed it madly as Draco pulled his cock from his mouth and let him come all over his face and neck, messing up that pretty hair and––_

Harry jolted awake in the early hours of the morning with a strangled yelp just as he felt a hot burst of sticky moisture erupt in his underwear. "Fuck," he whispered, his hand immediately shooting to his erection and squeezing it with a hitch of his breath before he fell back onto the mattress and gasped for air. He half-expected to turn his head to see Draco lying beside him, blond hair spread out over the pillow in fitful early-morning sleep, but the bed was empty. He opened his mouth to groan to himself, but he found that he did not even have the strength for that. He grabbed his wand from the bedside table and flicked it at himself, nonverbally casting a cleaning spell before he forced himself to sit up and plant both feet on the floor.

Four days had passed since he and Draco had had sex in Draco's room...At least, Harry liked to think of it as sex. Technically, he knew, he and Draco had just gotten off together, but he certainly felt as though his virginity had been taken. His arse was still incredibly sore from the unlubricated forced entry of the leather rod into his most intimate of places, so he had been limping all over the house ever since. Not even Ron had asked questions, and he had the sneaking suspicion that Draco had left the Silencing Charms off of the room when they were making such a racket during their sexual escapades. Wincing, he rose to his feet and strode shakily to the wardrobe, his finger popping into his mouth as he considered which outfit out of the old, dusty wardrobe would impress Draco the most this morning.

Whenever he made his way downstairs to the kitchen dressed in a plain black t-shirt and denim trousers, however, he was disappointed to find that Draco was not at the table. His face fell slightly, though he was careful to school his expression so he just appeared tired. Barefoot, he padded across the kitchen floor and pulled back a chair, smiling at Mrs. Weasley, who was cooking at the stove. "Good morning, dear," she greeted with a small smile, though Harry knew that he saw worry lining her brow. He crossed his legs at the ankles and swallowed hard, nervous for some inexplicable reason as she placed a glass of orange juice in front of him. "How did you sleep, Harry?"

"Fine," he muttered into his juice glass, which magnified his voice in the nearly-empty kitchen. He took several deep gulps before setting the glass down and resting his chin on his forearms atop the table, suddenly regretting coming down so early. Mrs. Weasley was shooting him strange looks that made his stomach flutter uncomfortably, and he found that he wanted Ron to show up in a flurry of morning energy. Ron was absent, however, and so when Molly placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him then sat down in the chair to his left, he took a deep breath and vowed to tell her nothing. "Yes, Mrs. Weasley?" he inquired in a tone he hoped was as jovial as he had intended.

As if on cue, Arthur appeared in the kitchen and sat across from Harry, leaning forward and glancing at his wife, who nodded. "Good morning, Harry," he said with a yawn that betrayed the fact that he had been up all the previous night. "I see that Molly was about to get started without me. We wanted to ask you, Harry...Well, I mean to say––" He cut himself off and looked awkwardly to his wife, his freckled hand resting tensely on the tabletop. Harry wanted nothing more than to get up and run in that moment, but he held back, clenching his jaw when Arthur carefully avoided his gaze.

Molly sighed and rolled her eyes before she reached over and took one of Harry's hands. "Harry, dear, we've become quite concerned with the Malfoy boy," she said quietly, as though Draco were waiting just outside the door to the kitchen and spying on them. "He's been rather malicious towards you especially, and I know, dear, that you try to see the good in everyone––" Harry snorted loudly. "––You do, Harry, and it's a wonderful quality, but we thought we heard you begging for...for mercy the other night, and you've been limping, and we wonder if maybe he didn't hurt you? Did he do something––"

"No." Harry was shocked at the conviction in his voice as he pulled his hand away from Molly's. "He hasn't done anything to me, Mrs. Weasley. I wholly trust him with my life and the lives of those around me, and I think everyone else should, too," he whispered groggily, wishing that he was back in bed, though with Draco curled up in his arms. "He's a good person, Mrs. Weasley. Malfoy––Draco––is different in his thinking, yes, but he deserves a second chance from everyone, I think."

Arthur gave Molly a strange sort of look before he cleared his throat a little. Harry looked genuinely unabashed by the thought of Draco, and he knew that the two had been getting along quite well in the recent weeks, but he had not expected anything like this. "Well, Harry, as long as you are okay...I mean, this is your house, but you know that Molly and I have your very best interests at heart. If there's anything we could do at all to help you...Perhaps the, er, meetings you had with Dumbledore last year could shed some light––"

Harry shook his head firmly and stared resolutely down at the table. He was reluctant to make eye contact with most people now, if only for the sake of Occlumency. He was also paranoid that they would see inside of him, see the images running through his head of his and Draco's tryst a few evenings previous, and that was certainly the last thing he wanted his pseudo-parents to see flickering across his eyelids. "I've told you before," he muttered, his eyes fixed on the grain of the tabletop, "that what happened last year is between Dumbledore and me. Ron and Hermione know, and Draco will know, but no one else can have any idea what's going on. What if the Death Eaters got hold of you? They could discover my plan that not even Voldemort knows about, and I'm not taking that risk." He could see the looks of disbelief on their faces, and he knew that they had not appeared because of the fact that he would not tell them, but because he was to reveal the plan to Draco.

"You'll tell Draco?" Mrs. Weasley asked sharply, a hint of fear in her eyes now. "Harry, you know he's a––"

"If I believed him to be a Death Eater, _Molly_, then I would not permit him in my house!" It was the first time Harry had ever called Mrs. Weasley by her first name, and it dropped from his tongue like venom dripping from the snake's fang. "At any rate, Draco, Ron, Hermione, and I need to make a visit to Gringotts this week. It's urgent, and we need to go alone." He, Ron, and Hermione had been discussing Hepzibah Smith for several weeks, and the three had determined that the best course of action was to go to Gringotts and demand to see her vault in order to verify whether or not her 'prized possessions'––Ravenclaw's and Hufflepuff's artifacts––were still in there. It was, Harry supposed, a great place to start looking for the Horcruxes, and they needed to start soon. The sooner the Horcruxes were found and destroyed, the better for everyone. "So will you alert the Order? Let them know to be on alert for my signal?"

Molly looked as though she wanted to argue, but Arthur rested his hand on her shoulder and smiled before giving him a nod. "Of course we will, Harry."

Ginny was furious. Her parents had informed her three days ago that Harry, Ron, Hermione, and––to her great horror––Draco would be doing something top-secret at Gringotts, and she had not been invited! Having grown tired of stomping about with no one paying her any mind, she decided on a new course of action and turned to hurry up the stairs and down the corridor at the top, which ended in Malfoy's room. This part of the corridor was not lit well at all, and it gave her the creeps in the best of times. Now that she was heading there for a sordid reason, it seemed even darker, and she felt her heart pounding in her throat as she lifted her hand and rapped sharply on the polished door. There were footsteps inside, a pause, then the door swung open to reveal Malfoy, looking quite tired with bags under his eyes and a red robe she recognised as Harry's wrapped around his waist. "Oh, look," he purred silkily, and he leaned against his doorframe with an air of hubris about him. "It's the baby weasel. Come to gaze at what you'll never have, Weasley?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Ginny hissed, and she looked around to make sure no one––especially Narcissa Malfoy––was not around to hear her. "You need to clear off. Harry's been completely different ever since you got here, and we're all sick of you acting like you own the place!" It was true—Draco had acquired quite the strut in the past few days, and Ginny was sickened by his display. He was like a horny male peacock, and she needed to knock him down a few pegs.

Draco's eyes skirted over the youngest Weasley's body, and he gave a little sneer at her second-hand robes and face filled with freckles before he stepped out into the hallway and shut the door behind himself with a soft click. He knew what this sound would do, and sure enough, he heard heavy footsteps in a closed room down the hall, and he smiled at Ginny before leaning in very close to her. "Harry wants me here, _Ginevra_," he stressed to her, and he leaned even closer. "And I daresay he wants more than that with me, so why don't you poke that bulbous little nose of yours into someone else's business?"

An unmistakeable look of scepticism overcame Ginny's face, and she cocked a sassy eyebrow at Malfoy. "He wants you here, does he? I seem to recall him throwing quite a fit when he walked in a few months ago and found you here. What possibly could have changed in that time, ferret? _You_ certainly haven't..." She heard the door behind her open, but instead of turning around, she found herself being seized by Malfoy and drawn quickly to him. She noted in the split second's pause that Malfoy had the flattest stomach she had ever felt, then her lips were being forcibly violated by Malfoy's and she froze in horror. His lips were much too harsh against hers, and she saw through outraged, wide eyes that he was not looking at her at all, but over her shoulder. Fire kindled in her chest, and she found strength somewhere deep inside of herself to shove hard against the blond's chest, but he held fast to her a moment before she felt a hard grip on her upper arms, and she was ripped from the kiss painfully by callous hands.

Harry heard Draco's door close in the hall, and his heart leapt into his mouth. Draco was just outside the door, in his hallway! His feet hit the floor with a hard thump, and he moved swiftly across the room to press his ear against the door. Yes, Malfoy was definitely outside, but there was someone else with him, too, and he recognised Ginny's voice. He made a face as she realised that she was insulting Draco, and he wanted more than anything in that moment to walk right out there and punch her for talking to Draco like he was somehow beneath her. Yes, that sounded like a perfect idea! He seized the doorknob and twisted it, pushing the door open before stepping out into the corridor and seeing, horror of horrors, HIS Draco being kissed against his will by Ginny! A fury unlike any Harry had ever known bubbled in his stomach, and he saw crimson as he strode over to the pair, seeing a plea for help in Draco's gorgeous silver eyes, and he grabbed Ginny's arms just beneath the shoulders and jerked her away from Draco.

"What the fuck, Ginny?!" he growled, his eyes consumed with rage, and he pushed her hard against the closest wall. He saw fright in her eyes, but it did not register with his brain for some reason, and he pressed close to her, his finger pressing painfully into the middle of her chest. "What the fuck are you thinking?! Leave Malfoy the hell alone!" His voice was dripping with venom as he poked her hard in the chest again, sparking the sudden swell of tears in her eyes.

Her gaze darted back and forth between Harry and Malfoy, who was now striding over in his robe to stand beside Harry. She, who had been in love with Harry for so long, did not miss the subtle shifting of Harry's weight to his right as Malfoy came to that side, and she certainly did not miss the sudden possessive presence of Malfoy's hand on Harry's opposite hip. "Yeah, Weasley," Draco drawled nastily, and to her surprise, Harry melted into his arms, looking possessed as he indulged in placing his hands on Malfoy's chest and back. The blond had the audacity to look pleased, and Ginny wanted to hex him, but she was paralyzed with shock. She watched Harry's green eyes flicker to Draco's face in almost reverence, and she knew that something was horribly wrong. "What's wrong? Precious Harry not in love with you anymore? How tragic…"

Ginny found it in herself to tear away then, running down the corridor without chancing a glance back at them. Harry looked into Draco's face and shook his head a little, his hands sliding forward so his arms encircled the blond. His heart was hammering loudly, being so close to Draco, and without even thinking, he leaned in and pressed the softest kiss to Malfoy's lips. The potion throbbing in his veins caused him to lose control of himself at that moment, and he was suddenly pressing Malfoy up against the wall, his hands divesting him of the Gryffindor robe wrapping his pale frame. Draco's pale eyes widened in surprise as Potter molested him, his rough hands sliding all over his bare chest and back, slipping lower with every passing moment, and he felt his dick stiffen as a probing tongue violated his lips and pressed into his mouth.

God, this felt wonderful! Every dream he had about Draco, every moment's passing thought, was nothing compared to actually touching him, kissing him and pressing closer. He felt Draco become aroused, and he hungrily broke off the one-sided kiss before dropping to his knees right there in the middle of the corridor of the Headquarters for the Order and pushed the robe to either side of Malfoy's hips. He eyed the bobbing erection with a whimper, and he hazarded a glance up to Malfoy's face, which was mildly surprised but nonetheless entertained, and he shot him a seductive grin before wrapping his mouth around the cock before him.

Draco's knees went weak. He had certainly not anticipated this reaction at all, but he was certainly not complaining. He leaned heavily back against the wall, his legs spread wantonly as Potter's right hand slid up cup his testicles and massage them gently while his mouth—his hot, damp mouth—fucked itself on his prick. He could hear conversations in a room a few doors down and Mrs. Weasley bustling around in the kitchen at the foot of the stairs, but he did not suppress a moan of satisfaction as Harry's knuckles pressed into his taint and sent a shiver based at his prostate up his spine. His hands tangled in Potter's unruly hair and gripped it tightly as they balled into fists, and he pumped his hips in rhythm with the other boy's mouth as he felt himself nearing completion.

Harry worshipped the cock in his mouth with his tongue, mapping every velvety fold and bump with care and awe. His left hand lifted up, and he buried his fingertips in the tight blond curls at the base of Draco's penis, and he committed the texture to memory a moment before Draco thumped his head hard against the wall and yelped with pleasure. A salty warmth flooded into Harry's mouth, and he moaned gently, swallowing the thick liquid before beginning to lick the remnants from Draco's twitching cock, but there were footsteps hurrying up the stairs, and Draco shoved him back before tying the robe around himself and disappearing into his room, all colour drained from his face.

It was only Mrs. Weasley, coming to make sure that Harry was all right. "I heard…Well, nevermind," she said with a smile before she moved forward and helped Harry to his feet. "Be careful of the old floorboards, Harry…" He nodded to her before casting Draco's bedroom door a longing look, but he knew that Draco would not surface again, and he followed Mrs. Weasley downstairs.

Ginny was sobbing in Hermione's arms, shaking her head when the older girl asked what was wrong. "It'…It's nothing, Hermione," she choked out, but she was overtaken again by tears, and she buried her face in Hermione's neck. Ron and Hermione had been sitting together discussing plans for Gringotts when Ginny had burst in, tears streaming down her face, and for five minutes they had been completely unable to do anything about it. Hermione shot Ron a pleading look before pushing Ginyn back slightly and taking her by the shoulders, but Ginny winced and cried out softly in pain.

"Ginny, what's happened to you?" Ron asked, bewildered, as he came over and lifted the sleeves of her Muggle t-shirt. Yellowish skin glared back at him—the beginnings of what would be spectacular bruises, and Ron positively bristled at the sight of them. "Ginny, what the hell? Who did this to you?" He kicked into protective mode and seized the part of her left arm that was not bruised, pulling it up and inspecting in closely. "These look like fingerprints, Ginny! Was it Malfoy?!"

"N-no," she whispered, "but he…he KISSED me, then Harry…Harry…" She gestured towards the arm Ron held captive and broke down again. An expression of shock overtook Hermione's face, but Ron simply looked utterly outraged.

"Harry did this to you?!" he snapped, and he stamped his foot hard on the wooden floor, glaring at Hermione. "Goddamnit, Hermione, what the hell is going on with him? Last year he was fucking in love with Ginny, and now…Now he's hurting her! What the hell is he thinking? I tell you, something's fucking wrong!" Ginny nodded her tearful agreement from Hermione's shoulder, and, in that moment, Harry opened the door and walked in, a look of indignation painted across his face.

"Or maybe I'm just not comfortable about finding her accosting Draco in the corridors. She was forcing herself on him, like some…some tramp!" he exclaimed, his presence so sudden yet instantly filling the room. Hermione looked affronted, and Ron looked as though he might punch Harry as he strode over to him and seized him by the shirt collar.

"Where do you get off bruising my little sister?!" Ron snarled, and Harry rolled his eyes a moment before shoving Ron back away from him and going to sit on the bed in the room. He pushed up his sleeves and kicked off his shoes before leaning against the wall and sneering. Ron watched him, aghast. "You can't honestly believe that Ginny kissed Malfoy…"

"I saw it!" Harry huffed, irritated. "And damn it, I'm not going to stand around and watch him be violated like that! He wasn't enjoying it, Ginny! He was begging me for help!" But it did not seem as though Hermione and Ron were listening to him anymore. They were staring, transfixed, on his wrists and ankles, and he cocked an eyebrow at them. "What?" he asked, following their gazes to see that he had revealed the myriad of bruises on his joints from being tied up last week. They were still an angry green-black, and he wondered for a moment with a smile on his face whether Draco had cursed the bruises to be long-lasting. It would be just like him. His heart fluttered in his chest.

Hermione cleared her throat a little, looking troubled. "Harry, we thought we heard someone screaming last week, but…but it wasn't like a scared screaming or…or anything," she muttered, clearly embarrassed. Ron had not seemed to have caught on yet, and he was giving Hermione a strange look. "Harry, if it's not what I'm going to ask you, it'll sound really weird, but don't get mad. Erm…Did someone have you tied up?" She gestured to the bruises, and Harry covered his wrists almost protectively from her gaze. She frowned and heaved a heavy sigh. "Yes, then. Was it Malfoy?"

Ron had caught on now, and he looked utterly horrified. "Don't be stupid, Hermione," he said quietly, seriously, and he tried to meet Harry's eyes, but the other would not look up at him. "Harry, tell her she's being thick. Like you could ever let Malfoy do anything like that to you, especially in your own home…It's laughable, isn't it, Harry?" He tried to give a few short laughs, but Harry still did not look up. Ginny was staring at Harry in horror as well, and she did not notice as Hermione eased her out of her arms and went to the bed. She sat down at Harry's feet and lifted his trouser leg before gasping quietly. The bruises were not thin—it appeared as though the ropes had been wrapped around Harry's leg several times—and there were several impact bruises on his shin.

"Leave it, Hermione," Harry commanded seriously, and he pushed the leg of his trousers back down. He did not like looking into the freaked-out faces of his best friends or the hurt eyes of his ex-girlfriend; he would much rather have been back in Draco's room, curled up in bed with him and kissing. As his friends began to fuss over him, yelling at each other and him in alarm, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink into that blissful world where Draco was his love and they were inseparable. Draco would come in here and push everyone away before seizing Harry's hands. Harry would grin and stand, ignoring everyone's protests as Draco pulled him from the room, his beautiful smile melting Harry's heart, and they would flee the Headquarters and into the night together. It did not matter that it was only late August—it was snowing in Harry's world—and Draco would initiate a childish game of chase before Harry caught up to him and whirled him around, pressing close. "Je t'aime," Draco would whisper in his ear in French, and the two would laugh before indulging themselves in a kiss unrivalled by any Harry had received before. Harry smiled to himself and sighed deeply, content.

It was obvious that their words were bouncing right off of Harry, and so Ron, Hermione, and Ginny frowned and left the room, fully intending to have a talk with Molly. If anyone could talk some sense into him, she could.

Draco knocked quietly on his mother's bedroom door and smiled as she opened it, allowing her son entrance. "Hi, Draco," she whispered, and she closed the door after him as he strode into the top-floor bedroom. Narcissa Malfoy stayed hidden in the Headquarters more often than not, more comfortable alone than in the company of men she had been trying to kill for so long. She had to admit, she enjoyed Mrs. Weasley's company more than she had anticipated, but she despised most of the Order members flocking in and out of the house at random intervals. "Your father sent us a letter to the post office, and my niece picked it up for me while she was in town." She was, of course, alluding to Tonks.

"Father?" Draco asked, and he settled himself in a comfoetable armchair resting by the window of his mother's bedchamber. He took the letter as it was offered to him, and he unfolded it with a small smile.

_Narcissa and Draco,_

_I hope the both of you are well. I heard talk that the two of you fled into hiding immediately following the headmaster's death, and while I wish I had been able to see my son's moment of greatest triumph over Dumbledore, it seems as though I will be here for a while. I apologise for my absence._

_I am not sure how I feel about the two of you hiding from the Dark Lord. While I understand that there was potential danger for you both, I feel that he would have been merciful, for the deed was done and our plans can now commence without meddling from the old fool. Speculations of the reason you fled are running wild, but there is no pattern between the stories, and so I am writing to ask you myself what your motives were._

_As for life here, it is as dull as it has always been. Without the dementors, it is not unbearable, but the guards—a team of Aurors that are as rude as they could possibly be considering I funded much of their training—are right gits, honestly. When I break out of here, it won't be a moment too soon._

_My regards,_

_Lucius_

Draco frowned and refolded the letter before handing it to his mother. "Snarky as ever, I see," he sighed, and the unhappiness on his face was quite apparent. Narcissa frowned and placed her hand on his shoulder with a slight nod.

"You can't blame him, Draco…He's tired of being locked up. I can't say I blame him. He feels very left out of our flight, though if he knew where we were…I shudder to think what would happen. He would try to disown you, divorce me…It would be the end of the name 'Malfoy' for me, I'm afraid…" There was distinct sadness in her voice, and Draco lay his hand atop hers. "But we have more pressing matters, Draco. You have this big secret Gringott's visit…What's that about?"

Draco shrugged and stared blankly out the window over London. "Potter's got some crush on me or something and wants me to come with him, the Weasel, and the Mudblood. It sounds thrilling really," he snorted, and he frowned up at his mother. "What should I do?" He had to keep up appearances, after all. If Narcissa knew that he had forcefed Potter a love potion to bend him to his will…Well, his father would have been proud, but not Narcissa. She would have been furious.

The blond woman frowned deeply and looked out the window as well. "You must not get caught up in such trivial matters, Draco. We have much more important concerns, like…well, surviving." Draco supposed she would have been right, had the situation been appropriate.

* * *


	4. Concession

**Now, Sakai Michiba presents:  
Sectumsempra Animi  
Chapter Four**

* * *

Ron and Hermione looked at one another, pained expressions visible to all passers-by. "What is he doing?" Ron muttered to her with a shake of his head, his eyes securely fixed on Harry. Harry and Malfoy had instructed Ron and Hermione to hang back for a few moments whilst they went to speak with the Gringotts goblins about possibly checking a dead person's vault. It was not this that was the focus of Ron's attention, but the movements of Harry's hand as the pair strode across the entrance hall to the bank. Harry's hand kept making for Malfoy's, his fingers outstretched, but the moment his fingertips would make contact, Draco's hand would half-heartedly swipe them away. Harry, not to be deterred, reached his hand out in a try for Draco's lower back, but the other boy turned to him and snapped something that was lost to Ron and Hermione in the bustle of the bank. "I mean, really, what the hell is going on?"

Hermione tapped her wand distractedly against her knee, her free hand crossed over the front of her casual black robes. "I've been looking up all sorts of things on mind control, but any time I go to Harry and try to test out my theories —there are things you can ask that will usually give standard answers which, according to every book I've read on it, will pretty much prove that some spell has been cast— I get nothing. He seems almost completely normal about this whole thing, like… Well, I don't like to think that he and Malfoy have something between them, but…" The look on Ron's face caused her to trail off, and she shook her head. "I just haven't been asking the right questions. That must be it."

"Yes, it must be," Ron stated conclusively, and he nudged Hermione, forcing her to look up again. There was an obvious argument between Malfoy and one of the goblins, and Harry was looking around nervously. Draco suddenly stumbled back as though he had been punched, and he released a startled yell that drew the eyes of the other patrons before he pulled his wand. Harry grabbed his arm, tried to pull him away, but Draco was yelling, actual words lost in the dull roar of the crowd, which was escalating as the violence increased. There seemed to be a sudden surge of people in front of Ron and Hermione, blocking their view, and Ron stood up on his tiptoes, trying to see over them. "Damn it, what are they doing?" he growled, and the crowd parted to reveal that they were gone. "Hey, wha—!"

There was a hand on his arm, dragging him along at a frantic run, and he yelped when he turned to see Malfoy, looking furious, pulling him through the people. Ron did not even think to ask where they were going, and he turned his head to see Hermione being similarly jostled through the multitude of witches and wizards. He had been so caught up in watching her that he yelled in shock when Draco threw him unceremoniously into a cart and leapt in right behind him. Harry and Hermione jumped in as well, and Harry barked, "Three-seventeen!" before the cart took off into the depths of the bank. He and Malfoy exchanged looks, before sighing and slumping in their seats. "You all right, Draco?"

Ron watched as Draco unfastened his robes and lifted up his shirt gingerly, exposing a blossoming bruise on his pale abdomen. Draco's fingers probed gently at the greenish flesh before he groaned, and stamped his foot on the bottom of the cart, looking furious. "Bloody goblin punched me," he explained in response to Hermione's shocked expression. "They're vicious creatures! I hope they don't wonder why everyone hates them; we'd be better off if they went extinct, if you ask me!" He lowered his shirt carefully and fastened his robes again, ignoring the smouldering look of anger on Hermione's face and the entranced expression on Potter's.

The four lapsed into silence —they were aware when they went in that there would be the possibility of having to break into the vault— and Harry wished he was sitting beside Draco instead of across from him. That punch had looked as though it had hurt pretty badly, and he had not expected it to bruise like that. It had not escaped him that Ron had looked when Draco lifted his shirt, and he had felt in that moment such a surge of jealousy that he had wanted to leap across the cart and punch him in the face. Draco's look restrained him, and he slid his foot forward to touch the sides of their feet with a small smile. Draco appeared to not have noticed, and so Harry was content.

They were in the cart for no less than twenty minutes, during which Draco looked very ill. "My vault," he growled greenly, "is no more than two minutes from the top, and its number is only seventy away from this one! Why isn't there any fucking order?!" The other three silently agreed with this sentiment, and when the cart finally came to a stop, they all clambered out as quickly as possible. The sudden contact with the ground made Draco sway, and he only had a moment's warning of a solid, wet knot in his throat before he felt Harry's hands pulling his hair back. Ron and Hermione had the decency to turn away when he fell to his knees on the dusty platform and vomited into the groove of the tracks. For once, he was thankful to have Potter touching him, those hands keeping his blond hair from falling in the line of fire. When he was finished bringing up his breakfast, he shakily swiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pulled himself into a standing position by way of Harry's proffered hand. "Thanks," he muttered, miserable. "You think anyone will follow us?"

Ron snorted and shook his head. "No. Bill says they don't bother chasing people who try to break into vaults, since they never come back. Not alive, anyway." He wore a grim expression as he said this, and he cast suspicious looks around the dirty dungeon of a corridor. "This place gives me the creeps. If we're going to do this, let's."

Harry gulped and walked up to the vault door, looking up to the very top where three gold numbers, 317, glittered in the dim torchlight. The air seemed to be thrumming with Draco's presence, and he wanted Draco to be standing beside him, holding his hand maybe or even just being within arm's reach. This place made him inexplicably nervous. He lifted a hand and ran the palm down the vault door. Beyond, there were the sounds of locks clicking and turning, startling Harry, and he took a step back as the door suddenly slid aside, exposing a long corridor with mounds of treasure at the very end. "Blimey," he heard Ron whisper reverently, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron begin to walk towards it. There was the soft sound of singing, hundreds of voices mingling in the air, and Harry found that he was being drawn into the vault as well.

"_Omnia mutantur nos et mutamur in illis.  
Omnia vincit amor nos et cedamus amori.  
O sancta simplicitas! Res ipsa loquitur_!"

Draco's eyes widened as he watched Harry and Ron, spellbound, begin walking right into the corridor, and it seemed as though he and Granger leapt at the same moment, he seizing the back of Harry's robes and Hermione snatching Ron's arm, and together, they pulled the boys back. "What are you thinking?!" Draco hissed, and he turned Harry in his arms to he was facing him. "Are you _mad_? You think you can just waltz right in, do you?" Of course it had to be a trap— things were never so easy. Harry's eyes visibly flashed a golden colour, which startled Draco so much that he yelped, but Harry ignored this and grinned sappily, his body relaxing in Draco's arms. "Wh-what are you doing, Potter?" Draco stammered, glancing over to Granger to see if she could offer any assistance, but Ron was advancing on her in a similar way, though it seemed that she was not putting up any sort of fight. She gave a muffled squeak when Ron leaned right in and kissed her, which brought Draco back to his senses, and he put his fingers up just in time to keep Harry's lips from landing on his own. "No."

The kiss had, for Ron, it seemed, broken the strange curse, and he had stumbled back from Hermione, eyes wide and blinking. "Sorry, sorry," he was mumbling embarrassedly as he brushed off his robes, but then he caught sight of Harry trying to kiss Draco, and he flushed, "Er, Malfoy? As much as I hate to tell you this… um…"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Draco snarled, and he shut his eyes tightly in disgust as he dropped his hand from Potter's mouth. Immediately, there was the press of Harry's lips on his own, and he let it linger until Potter tried to slip him the tongue. "All right, enough of that!" He stepped backwards, seeing Harry's eyes flash again just before a bright blush spread along his face. "Hope you enjoyed that, Potter. You've expended all the romance from me." There was a snort from Ron and a nervous giggle from Hermione, but Harry did not look embarrassed at all. Quite the opposite, really —he looked as though he would have liked to shag Draco right there— but Draco brushed past him and stood at the mouth of the tunnel, inspecting it. "Well," he said slowly after a moment, and he turned to face the other three, "Potter, you go first. I'll follow, then Weasley. Granger, you… you be ready to pull us out."

Hermione's eyes widened. She had not expected Malfoy to volunteer for anything on this mission, so the fact that he was willing to go in second shocked her beyond belief. She watched as Harry courageously took the first step into the tunnel, freezing briefly inside before he continued down the path. Draco followed immediately, two steps behind Potter, wand raised. He could hear Weasley enter the tunnel close behind him, and when it was clear that Granger would not be following, the singing quadrupled in volume.

"_Arduum sane munus, amare et sapere vix deo conceditur!  
Amor caecus est; amor ordinem nescit.  
Ad fundum, ad infinitem, ad absurdum.  
Aeternum vale, aeternum vale, aeternum vale_!"

Draco's head swam with the Latin, and he swayed slightly on his feet. His hands reached out to catch Harry's hips, and he stumbled forward and into him slightly, but they did not fall. He could feel Ron's hands on him in turn, but he did not mind that at all, rather felt like kissing him, actually, and he pulled Harry to a stop. Immediately, Harry turned to him and wrapped around him from behind, his mouth on Draco's cheek and ear, and Ron was there, too, but Ron's hands rested on both of them, one on Draco's stomach and one on Harry's arse. Draco's mouth opened obediently as Ron's pressed to it, and the taste of Ron's tongue in his mouth made his head spin. Harry was moaning in his ear between heavy licks, and Draco could feel Harry's cock pressing hard and insistent against his arse as Ron's hands were unbuttoning his robes and delving into his trousers. He felt his robes being removed, and that was _wonderful_, and his trousers and pants were around his knees then. There was a whispered charm, then he felt the crown of Harry's cock pressing against him, pressing painfully into him, and he was moaning and crooning into Ron's mouth.

"_Omne trium perfectum_…"

Hermione was practically ripping her hair out, jumping up and down and screaming at them. "_Stop it! For fuck's sake! Look out behind you!_" Tears erupted over her cheeks when Ron shoved his trousers down as well and bent over in front of Draco, who was crying out in tongues, his eyes rolling back in his head as he moaned a spell not in Latin but in a language she did not comprehend, and then he was spreading Ron's legs accordingly and pushing into him. Ron was calling out in tongues as well, the language sounding similar to the words spewing from Draco's mouth, and Harry was chanting loudly with the Latin, screaming, "_Omne trium perfectum! Omne trium perfectum_!"

They did not feel the heat of fire behind them, did not feel as a great flame reached out for them, licked their flesh, and, to Hermione's utter horror, seized them as one and jerked them out of sight. The choir voices were singing one endless, harmonised note louder and louder, deafening her, and she was screaming, casting spell after spell down the tunnel but refusing to go down it.

The three were clothed again in a place where time did not seem to exist. Colours, ridiculous colours that could not have existed swirled and waved around them, and Draco could feel Harry's arms around him. Ron's head was tucked in against his stomach, and he heard someone, no one, whispering, "_O praeclarum costodem ovium lupum_…" He realised that his mouth was moving, and he turned his head to face Harry. Green eyes were gazing into his, and he tilted his chin up so their cheeks rested together. "_Pavesco_," he gasped against Harry's ear. "_Me serva_, Harry, _et te servabo_…" Ron's arms tightened around him, and suddenly the whirl of colour became violent, frightening, and the three screamed as one.

Then, suddenly, the three were thrust through that wall of colour and thrown onto the dirt floor beside Hermione, who was choking and sobbing as they lay there, stunned. Her hands seized Ron first, and she hauled him into a sitting position, sobbing into his chest, but he merely blinked at her, trying to clear his mind. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly, but she shook her head and merely kept on wailing. Ron cocked an eyebrow and looked up at Harry and Draco. "What happened?"

Harry shook his head, not knowing, but Draco was sitting stock-still except for his violent trembling. "_Pavesco…P-pavesco_…" _I'm shaking, I-I'm shaking_. He closed his eyes as Harry's arms wrapped around him, and he buried his face in Harry's neck until he could breathe properly again. Hermione had calmed herself down and was now merely leaning against Ron, who looked perfectly confused.

"What happened?" he asked Harry, who shrugged and shook his head. Draco also shook his head, not because he did not remember, but because he did not want to. Ron frowned at Malfoy and embraced Hermione sweetly, watching as Draco stood up and brushed himself off.

"Potter," Draco said quietly, and he chewed on his lower lip. "Potter, take me home."

Hermione and Ron had decided that they would buy a few things in Diagon Alley whilst Harry took Malfoy back to the Order Headquarters. The cart ride back up had been quicker than the ride down, which annoyed Draco immensely, but he did not say anything to any of the other three passengers. Harry was sitting next to him this time, and he allowed Harry to keep his arms wrapped around him in concern, but he did not lean into the embrace at all except for those times when the cart made a wide swing and he was pressed into Harry's side by default. They slipped through the crowd in the lobby, unseen by the goblins, and they were well out of sight of Gringotts before any of them relaxed again. Number twelve, Grimmauld Place was connected to the Floo network for the afternoon, and so Harry and Draco fled to Honeydukes to use their private Floo. The shop was not terribly busy, and the owner smiled at Harry before allowing the boys into the backroom to use the Floo, as was previously agreed upon by the owner and the Weasleys.

They stepped out of the fireplace in the sitting room, and they made their way into the kitchen. Draco leaned back against the counter, lost in thought as he watched Harry pull an apple from the bowl of fruit and begin to eat it at the table. He watched Potter eat as though from a great distance, and whenever Harry glanced over and caught Draco staring, a pretty blush spread out over Harry's face. He was rather frozen in place under Draco's stare, the force of it thrumming through his body like a deep drumbeat, and he heard himself whimper softly. He took another bite of the apple and chewed it thoroughly before swallowing, and he watched Draco's hand as it lifted and turned palm-up. He saw Draco's finger crook twice, and his heart leapt into his throat as Draco lowered his chin and whispered, "Come here." As if he needed any more of an invitation. It was as though that finger had a string tied around it that was, on the other end, tied to Harry's chest. It pulled Harry out of his chair and across the kitchen of the empty house, and he paused just inches from Draco, wanting and needing to touch him, but every touch was so painful when unwanted and there was only so much hurt a man could take. He watched with bated breath as Draco's hands lifted then rested on his hips, and his heart stopped when Draco pulled him close. He could feel Draco shaking.

Draco smiled as Harry paused before him, knowing that Harry was unsure. He reached out and seized him by his jutting hipbones before he tugged him close, so close that their stomachs were pressed flush together, and he slid his arms around Harry's waist before he leaned down and easily pressed their lips together in the first true kiss they had ever shared. He was unsure why he was doing it, suspecting that it had something to do with nearly dying in euphoria back at Gringotts, but he pushed reason out of his mind and let himself fall into Harry for now, just for now.

Harry's heart was fit to burst as Draco leaned forward and pressed their lips together in a kiss that was nearly gentle, and he melted against Draco with a moan. It felt as though ice was pulsing through his veins, and gooseflesh lifted the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck. Every contact of his bare skin to Draco —one of Draco's hands had slipped up to cup the back of his neck and the sides of their noses were touching just slightly above their sealed lips— was on fire, and as Draco's mouth slid open over his own to give way to a seeking tongue, Harry thought he might just die on the spot. His green eyes were half-open, gazing into Draco's eyes lustfully, and he opened his mouth obediently when Draco's tongue, after making a round of Harry's lips, pressed between them. It wasn't fair, he thought, that he could be _so in love_ with Draco, and that Draco wasn't in love with him in return. His heart hammered against his chest as Draco's eyelashes fluttered and closed in what he could only hope was pleasure. Harry had been aroused since the moment Draco's finger beckoned him over, and he blushed as he felt his cock pressing against Draco's thigh, needing to be touched. He ignored it, though, and slipped his arms around Draco's neck to deepen the kiss.

The feel of Harry's cock pressing against his thigh did not, as he would have expected, disgust Draco at all. He felt his own loins stirring in response as he tasted Harry's apple-flavoured tongue and the mouth surrounding it, and he felt the shockwave run through Harry when he pressed his erection against Harry's thigh in return. He did not want to think about what it meant that this was turning him on, that kissing Harry Potter had any sort of an effect on him, and he blamed it on his shot nerves as he moaned into Harry's mouth. He could feel Harry's heart slamming against his ribcage, and when he broke the kiss to pause for breath, the mewl that escaped Harry at the loss nearly caused him to come in his trousers. Harry pressed their foreheads together, panting, and Draco stared deeply into his eyes. "I love you," Harry gasped before he tilted his head to the side and assaulted Draco's mouth.

"Fucking hell, Potter," Draco growled against Harry's lips, and he lifted him easily off of his feet. Harry's legs raised and wrapped around Draco's waist, and he whimpered as Draco stumbled into the drawing room and tumbled with Harry onto the sofa, covering him with his body and rubbing their cocks together through their trousers. His kisses were fierce and biting, but Harry loved them, craved them, and he kissed back with equal ferocity, arms tight around Draco, one hand buried in his hair and the other grasping a handful of a buttock. The soft, wet sounds of their kissing and the rustle of fabric against fabric managed to cover up the sound of the roar of the fireplace in the next room over, and Harry was moaning and writhing up against Draco.

Draco was just drawing Harry's tongue into his mouth and suckling on it when a choked gasp sounded at the doorway, but neither he nor Harry heard it. Harry's hand clenched in Draco's hair, fisting the blond strands that shone faintly even in the dark room, and Harry withdrew his tongue with a gasp before whispering, "Fuck me, Draco…" Draco nodded and Harry shuddered, lifting his hips so Draco could pull his trousers off, but suddenly, Draco was being lifted off of him.

Draco yelped as a hand seized a handful of robes before lifting him completely off of Harry, and he whipped around to see Ron, eyes blazing and lower lip trembling. Harry sat up and then leapt to his feet, grabbing Draco by the front of his robes and tugging him as hard as he could, pleased when Ron's grip gave and Draco was pulled into his chest. "What the fuck, Ron?!" Harry yelped, and he gasped as Draco attached his lips to Harry's neck. His knees went weak, and he clung to Draco to keep upright, tilting his head back and groaning. Ron was quavering with fury and Hermione, who was standing in the doorway, was gaping as Draco slid a hand down between Harry's legs and fondled him through his trousers. "Mmmn, _Draco_…"

Draco was obviously not expecting Ron to seize him about the shoulders and jerk him away, nor did he expect the fierce right hook to the jaw. He stumbled backwards, snarling like a rabid creature, and he sprung at Ron, fists raised in fury. It had been a while since the two boys had come to fisticuffs, but Draco was no less strong than he had been before, and Ron had seemed shocked that he dared to fight back, so Draco knocked Ron to the ground easily. Ron yelled, sounding inhuman, and Hermione ran over to pull Draco off of Ron, who immediately leapt up and threw himself at Draco again. Harry intercepted this time, however, and shoved Ron backwards with a snarl. "What the hell is your problem?! For fuck's sake, Ron, wasn't it _obvious_ we were in the middle of something?!"

"A bit too obvious!" Ron spluttered, and he gaped as Harry moved to pull Draco from Hermione's grip. Draco jerked away from everyone and, glaring, shook his head warningly at Ron. "Oh, you poor thing!" Ron snapped at him, and Harry stepped between them again. "Harry, he's the _fucking enemy_! What are you even _doing_?!"

"He's not our fucking enemy, Weasley!" Harry screamed hoarsely, and he felt Draco's hands on his back, pulling him away from his friends. He let himself be pulled back, and he felt tears welling up in his eyes in his frustration. Draco would have slept with him, would have made love with him, if they hadn't come in, and they could not possibly understand how painful it was when Draco did not let him touch him, when Draco pushed him away. Even now, as Draco pulled him back and out of the drawing room, every little touch of Draco's hands sent shivers up his spine. He heard Draco whispering for him to come on, to leave Weasley to his tirade, and he fell back against Draco before they slammed the door closed in Ron's face. Neither one of them was remotely aroused any more, nor did they run together upstairs to resume where they had left off. Instead, Draco slumped heavily against the wall and released Harry, who was frowning and shaking with fury. "I'm so sorry… Look at you," Harry breathed, fingering the blossoming bruise on Draco's jaw-line. "He didn't have any right to—"

Draco cut him off with a wave of his hand, and he pushed away from the wall. "I need time to myself, okay?" he asked, his tone nasty, and he was both surprised and pleased that Harry nodded and backed off, stomping up the stairs and slamming a door behind him. Draco slapped a hand to his forehead and disappeared into the small library, closing the door behind him. When he turned around to find a seat, he was shocked to find Severus sitting in one of the chairs, arms crossed and an eyebrow cocked. "O-oh. Er, hi," Draco stuttered, surprised, and he took a seat across from Severus with a heavy sigh. "What a day, eh?"

Severus frowned and leaned forward, staring at his godson in distaste. "Quite a couple of weeks, from what I can understand, Draco," he stated smoothly, and he observed the kiss-swollen state of Draco's lips as well as the greenish bruise on the boy's jaw. "Do you mind telling me what, exactly, is the nature of Potter's newfound infatuation with you?"

Draco snorted and shook his head. "There's nothing to tell," he claimed confidently, as smooth and convincing a liar as his father ever was. He cocked a curious eyebrow at Snape and leaned back in his chair, cracking his knuckles out of habit. "Potter, like so many others before him, has learned that I am completely irresistible. I mean, can you blame him, really?" Nervousness bloomed suddenly in his stomach, and he looked away towards the window. He did not like when Snape turned his wrath upon him; it made him uncomfortable.

"Oh, yes, that's feasible," Snape snorted, and he crossed his arms angrily. "I entrusted you with that book, with that _knowledge_, and you are putting the entire Order in jeopardy, Draco Malfoy! Do you know what you're doing? You're ruining everything! How can Potter possibly save anyone, much less the entire wizarding world, from Voldemort when he is too preoccupied with staring and swooning every time you make your presence known?"

Draco scoffed at this and rolled his eyes dramatically. "I don't know what you're tal—"

"What a load of rubbish!" Severus snarled, standing suddenly and towering over Draco. "I demand that you give Potter the antidote to that potion _immediately_! Exact your petty little revenge later, for Merlin's sake!" He stared down at the boy, outrage blossoming in his belly as Draco rolled his eyes and looked away. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he reached down to lay a hand on Draco's shoulder. "I know you're lonely by yourself here, Draco," he said gently, and he frowned as Draco's eyes fell shut. "I know that, and I know that you're not used to being on your own in anything, but you can't go around feeding love potions to your enemies. It's just not practical…"

"Leave me alone," Draco muttered, and he stood, shoving past Severus and scowling when he reached the door. "Have you told anyone?"

Snape closed his eyes and gripped the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Of course not."

"Well, don't."

Draco was dimly aware of an Order meeting going on downstairs as he took a shower, trying to relax concerning the day's earlier events. The memories of the time spent in limbo shook him, though he was not sure now which ones were real and which were fantasy. He knew that he never would have fucked Weasley or allowed Potter to fuck him, so he wrote that memory off as false, but he remembered the Latin, echoing in his head.

"_Arduum sane munus, amare et sapere vix deo conceditur!  
Amor caecus est; amor ordinem nescit.  
Ad fundum, ad infinitem, ad absurdum.  
Aeternum vale, aeternum vale, aeternum vale_!"

He shuddered and turned the shower off, stepping out of it and drying himself half-heartedly before wrapping a robe around himself. He padded out of the bathroom and to the bedroom, not bothering to get dressed before he lay down on the bed and pressed his wet head into the pillow. Just as he was falling asleep, he heard the door swing open, but did not lift his head. The door clicked shut a moment later, and the mattress dipped behind him before a hand rested on his hip. "Draco?" It was Harry's voice, soft and cautious, and he rolled over to look up into Potter's face. "Draco, the meeting's over."

"Oh," Draco whispered noncommittally, and he blinked as Potter leaned down to kiss him under his ear. He allowed it only because he was exhausted and had no desire whatsoever to fight anyone.

"Well, they have intelligence that… that the Death Eaters are planning a raid on the Ministry next week. We're going to go fight," Harry claimed, and he lay down on his side beside Draco. His arm started to slip around Draco's middle, but Draco shook his head and Harry withdrew his arm immediately. "Will you fight with us? With… with me?"

Draco blinked and shrugged before he closed his eyes and got comfortable on the pillows. "I don't know." He was half-asleep already, and he did not mind so much when Potter tried snuggling up to him again. Harry leaned up and pressed a kiss to the corner of Draco's mouth, and Draco pecked him on the lips sleepily before he allowed himself to fall asleep.


	5. Crush

The smut in this chapter has been toned down in language...quite a bit. Please visit my livejournal (sakaim(DOT)livejournal(DOT)com) and see my sticky post for this chapter (five) if you wish to read the dirty version of it.

**Now, Sakai Michiba presents:  
Sectumsempra Animi  
Chapter Five**

* * *

The soft, haunting sound of a hollow knock ringing on her bedroom door was the cause of Narcissa's awakening from her afternoon catnap, and she picked herself up from her leather chair by the window. Vanity forced her to inspect her reflection in the full-length mirror that must have been five hundred years old, and her hands came up to give her blonde hair a hearty shake for volume before she strode across the room to the door. "Hello, Draco," she whispered with a pleased smile, and she stood aside to gesture him in. "How wonderful to see you today… I've been having a nap. This old house exhausts me." 

"Dreadful, isn't it?" Draco asked with a sneer as he claimed the chair Narcissa had been napping in moments before. He tested it with a light bounce before he settled comfortably into the cushion, and he let his gaze drift out the window as his other came up behind him and began toying with his hair.

Draco was distracted.

Potter had been talking about nothing but the raid on the Ministry of Magic, and the more Potter talked about it, the more Draco was curious about what would happen. '_Of course_,' he told himself, '_it's not like I want to go or anything_…' Surely someone would be killed, and he was too closely tied to people on both sides of the war — well, that wasn't true, really, as he felt no affability towards anyone in the house but Snape — to want to witness any more death. Dumbledore's fall from the Astronomy Tower still haunted his dreams, after all.

Only last night, Draco had woken up gasping for air and in a desperate panic, moments before having leapt off of the Astronomy Tower in his dream to catch Dumbledore before he hit the ground and just… broke. It was too much for it to have been real, the phantom sight of Dumbledore's crumpled form on the ground. Draco had seen it as he and Snape had rushed past in an attempt to get the hell out of the grounds. His horror had only been intensified when the rustle of sheets beside him told him he was not alone, and he'd had his wand in hand before he realised that Potter had sneaked into his bed in the middle of the night. Quivering and sweating, Draco had lowered his wand and buried his face in his hands to muffle the harsh sounds of sobbing escaping unbidden from his mouth.

It seemed as though Potter expected him — wanted him, even — to go with the Order to intercept the raid, and he wondered secretly whether or not he was desired there so Potter could show off in an attempt to impress him. Naturally, he had ignored Snape's plea to give Potter the antidote in favour of letting Potter work himself into a frenzy trying to lay even a finger on Draco. The finger, and the rest of him, had been consistently denied since five days before, when they had returned from Gringotts. Draco shuddered upon recalling the short possession he was _so sure_ had actually occurred, and he shut his eyes tightly in disgust.

"Mother," he began quietly, and he turned his head to the right in order to observe her as she picked at his hair habitually, "what do you know of the upcoming raid?" He valued Narcissa's opinion as highly as his own, and that was very highly indeed. Also, he knew that she had been informed of the raid by Potter, who had come to him three days previous and whispered about how he had gone to Narcissa and spoken to her without becoming infuriated for the first time. Draco had wanted to laugh, but he knew that laughing would only cause Potter to become more infatuated with him, and even he had limits.

Narcissa paused at her son's inquiry, and she frowned slightly as she looked up and gazed over the courtyard where, weeks before, she had seen Potter and the Weasley girl kissing — or, she thought, the Weasley girl kissing a very reluctant Potter, his reluctance gaining him several brownie points in her book — and her son's obvious jealousy from his bedroom window. That day, as she watched her son leaning out of his window with a smile too much like his father's and Potter reaching, enamoured, for his hand, she had done a lot of thinking about Draco and the correct course of action for him. She thought about the Order of the Phoenix and how kind Potter had been to allow her and Draco to take refuge in his home, about the endless war and its subtleties that Potter could never fully understand, and about the beautiful spark in Potter's eyes that made its appearance every time her son walked by him or spoke or sighed. Oh, her son was _clever_, more so than he knew, and she secretly applauded him for thinking of a love potion. There was no better way to secure a place in the Order's grasp short of Potter _actually_ falling in love with Draco, and she did not see that happening. Ever.

"Well, I know that it is to occur in two days," she claimed as she focused back on the white-gold strands of her son's hair and ran her nails through it. It was so like his father's. "I also know that you should participate, if possible."

"_What_?!" Draco demanded, turning around to stare at her full-on, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Why should I? I'm in _hiding_, Mum. I'm supposed to be, you know… _hiding_, not running around _doing things_. I'm spent, thanks." He crossed his arms over his chest and turned back around to stare furiously out the window. Were she and Potter in league together now? He supposed he really had nothing to be concerned over until Snape told him he should go, after which he would have immediately Apparated with Snape to St. Mungo's for a check-up.

Narcissa sighed at her son, regretting for once that she had raised him to be such a brat. "Be serious, Draco," she scolded quietly, having no reserves whatsoever about seizing a pretty lock of Draco's hair and tugging it sharply. He yelped in shock, and she smiled with pleasure. "Have I got your attention now?"

"_Yes_, for fuck's sake! That _hurt_!"

"Good," she stated simply, and she moved around the chair to perch precariously on the arm. "If you accompany the Order when they go, you will not be so suspicious to them any longer. If you fall… out of favour with Potter… then it is very likely that, as you stand now, you will be cast out if your little plot backfires. I am completely shocked that Mad-Eye hasn't tried to murder you yet over this little love potion fiasco…Severus told me everything, Draco, and I agree with him. You need to give Potter the antidote, but I think you should wait until you've gained the Order's trust. It's crucial that they don't kick us out of here, Draco."

Draco frowned at her and crossed his arms, staring blankly out the window. "Are _you_ going to go fight, Mother?"

Narcissa paused, looking at her son for a few long moments then nodding almost solemnly. "Yes. I must earn my keep as well." The dirty look Draco shot her made her smile, and she patted his shoulder. "That doesn't work on me, little love. I taught it to you, remember?"

Draco scowled.

* * *

Harry's heart was pounding in his chest, thumping so hard against his ribs that it hurt, as he approached Draco's bedroom door at the end of the corridor. He swallowed hard and leaned against the wall just outside the room, trying to properly gather himself before he even thought about going to see Draco. 

These feelings for Draco made absolutely no sense, but he was not so concerned over that. He burned painfully for Draco every time he heard his voice, every time he saw even a glimpse of him, every time he was mentioned, but he had never had these sorts of urges with anyone else. He thought about Ginny, about Cho, and he shuddered, sickened at the thoughts. They were in the past now, and they were not — and had never been — Draco.

It was, however, increasingly obvious that Draco did not feel like this towards him, and that flayed him more than anything. Every angry glare, every harsh word, lashed painfully against Harry's heart, and he wanted to fall to his knees even thinking about it. "Fuck," he gasped, and he punched the wall in anguish. Why didn't Draco love him? _Why_?

The next day was the scheduled raid of the Ministry, and Harry needed Draco there, but he knew that even asking would be futile. Draco would want nothing to do with it, nothing to do with helping Harry fight, because as much as Harry liked to believe he was, he knew Draco was still an utter bastard. 'A loveable utter bastard,' he thought to himself grimly, and he sighed. Wanting to actually speak with Draco instead of jumping him, he turned to the bedroom door and cleared his throat a bit before he knocked quietly. There was no answer, which he took to mean that he was allowed inside, and so he opened the door and crept inside before closing it again. It would not do for Ron or Hermione to know that he was there.

Draco's eyes shot open when the door opened, but he did not sit up when he saw Potter silhouetted in the dim lit of the corridor, and he let his eyes close again. He had actually fallen asleep after several hours of attempting, and so Potter's intrusion annoyed the hell out of him. What right did he have to just barge in like that? He supposed that it _was_ Potter's house, after all, and he huffed into his pillow, ignoring the dip of the mattress when Potter slipped between the blankets and cuddled up to him. He felt a hand on his hip, and he realised with a sickening jolt that he had decided to sleep in the nude.

Harry noticed this, too, and he swallowed thickly, all rational thought wiped from his mind. "O-oh," he whispered, and he felt something icy-hot shoot through his veins as Draco rolled onto his back to glare at him in the dark. The glare was not painful, however, but arousing as _all hell_, and Harry's cock was immediately straining to burst through his old pyjama pants. He heard Draco fumbling with something on the nightstand, and he blinked as an oil lamp was lit, spilling soft golden light over them. It played with the shadows on Draco's face, and Harry felt a few drops of pre-come squeeze from the tip of his erection and soak into the threadbare fabric of his pyjama pants. "Oh, Merlin…" He took his bottom lip between his teeth and chewed.

Draco blinked at him in the light and saw the incredible restraint Potter was exercising. He could see the _need_ in those green eyes, and he felt himself smirking, felt himself reaching up to brush a lock of Potter's hair away from his scar, and he shivered in disgust with himself at the first heated coils of arousal twisting in his stomach. Potter just looked so _vulnerable_, so _in need_ of him, and he liked that more than he wanted to admit to himself. "Does it hurt, Potter?" he asked in breathless tones. "Is it painful not touching me?"

Harry nearly came on himself when Draco hand touched his hair, and he spread his legs as though the touch had been between them instead of on his head. "Yes," he hissed, and he gave a startled gasp when Draco slid his fingers down and onto his cheek. Draco had not touched him at all since they had snogged that day after the Gringotts visit, and it had been absolute murder for Harry. His cock was now dripping steadily, his pyjamas sporting a growing wet spot near the waistband, and he heard himself whimpering.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Draco chuckled, loving the fact that he could do this to anyone, let alone Potter, and he pulled the blanket off of Potter's legs to have a look. His eyes widened slightly at the sight of those old trousers clutching Harry, soaking wet with want for him, and he felt himself twitch. Harry's hands were jerking at his sides, and Draco's eyes flicked up to meet the gaze fixed so intently on him. "Merlin, Potter, don't you ever...?"

Harry shook his head fiercely. "No, no, no, you, only you," he moaned, and his eyes rolled in ecstasy when Draco's fingers reached to pinch one of his nipples.

"And what makes you think, Potter, that I'll ever have anything to do with that, hm?" Harry was trembling fiercely now, for Draco's hands were pushing away the cloth of his pyjamas and exposing his nudity. Draco seemed in awe, and he grabbed one of Harry's hands, pushing it down so Harry would touch himself, but Harry resisted and shook his head. "You really mean only me, don't you?" Draco snorted, and he was pleased when Harry nodded enthusiastically.

"Please," he gasped, feeling drunk, and he was shocked when Draco leaned right up and kissed him. He felt incredibly light-headed as Draco's mouth opened over his, tongue stabbing into his mouth desperately as he climbed on top of Potter. As he did so, he was quite unaware as to why he was doing so, knowing only that he was hotter than he had ever been before and that he wanted to do something about it.

Harry writhed beneath him, his arms sliding up to wrap around Draco's neck as Draco's hands unbuttoned his pyjama shirt. Every tiny brush of Draco's fingertips against the skin of his chest seared through him, and he tore his mouth away to gasp at the ceiling. Draco bit his chin and growled before he moved to nibble at the hollow of Harry's throat, sending violent tremors down Harry's spine. "I love you, Draco… I… nnngh…"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Trying to ruin it, Potter?" he snorted, and he felt Harry chuckling beneath him. He felt himself smiling —really smiling— for the first time in a year as he pushed Harry's shirt to the side and pressed a kiss to his bellybutton, causing Harry to squirm with pleasure, and he seized Harry's hip, squeezing it. "Is this all you think about, Potter?"

"No," Harry breathed, causing Draco to pause, and he lifted up on his elbows, his bottom lip red and moist from being chewed on so fiercely. "It's not all I think about… I think about the first time you'll tell me you love me, or the first time you'll fuck me, or when we tell Ron and Hermione that we're moving in together." He closed his eyes and smiled at his fantasies.

Draco stared at him sardonically, one eyebrow hiked up into his hair, but he kept his mouth shut and merely shook his head. "You're pathetic, Potter…"

"Yeah…"

They looked at one another and began to laugh, but then Draco's hand was sliding between Harry's legs and Harry was arching his back and keening. Just when he thought he was going to climax, Draco's hand disappeared again, and Harry whined before sitting up and staring with wide eyes as Draco stripped completely naked, exposing every inch of milky white flesh in the light of the oil lamp. Draco grinned at him, giving him a soft wink before he grabbed Harry's hand and placed it on him.

Harry marvelled at the feel of Draco in his hand, and he began to stroke cautiously. He gained confidence as Draco spread his legs wantonly and pinched his own nipple in response, eyes shining as he let his head fall back. Harry's eyes wandered, taking in the sight of the heavy weight in his hand, the shock of tight golden curls trailing down from a bellybutton that protruded slightly from Draco's stomach. Harry had never seen a bellybutton like Draco's before, and he reached down to try to push it back into Draco's stomach, but Draco yelped and swatted his hand away. "Ticklish," Harry heard him mutter, and he grinned up at him before he nodded to the drawer where he knew Draco kept his lubrication.

Draco reached over and pulled the jar out, handing it over to Potter and letting himself fall back luxuriously against the pillows. Harry reached down and gave himself a hard squeeze to keep from coming at the sight, and he moaned softly before he unscrewed the lid of the jar and coated his fingers in the lube before he set to touching Draco in earnest.

It shocked Harry how quickly he had Draco moaning and bucking his hips into Harry's hand, and with a final twist of Harry's hand around Draco, Draco was coming hard and fast in his hand, eyes squeezed tightly closed and hips a full six inches off of the mattress. Right before he came, he reached over to seize Harry, and in the middle of his orgasm, he could hear Harry screaming his name. He opened his eyes and watched Harry's face, contorted in rapture, and he moaned at the sight of him.

When Harry was finished, he shakily grabbed Draco's wand from the nightstand and waved it over Draco's come-covered chest. When the mess was gone, he gave a violent shiver and collapsed onto Draco's chest, clutching tightly to him and sighing, sated. "Nnnn, fuck," he whispered, and he grinned up at Draco, who looked exhausted. "Sorry I woke you up…"

Draco blinked down at him and shrugged. "S'all right. Took me forever to go to sleep anyway," he murmured, and he let his left hand rest on the back of Harry's head while his right hand extinguished the oil lamp. "You staying in here tonight, Potter?" He found that, in his advanced exhaustion, he did not mind so much if Harry wanted to stay with him. After all, it wasn't as though he took up much room in the bed, he thought, and he got comfortable when Harry slid up and buried his head in against Draco's neck. "I'll take that as a yes, then?"

"Mhmm," Harry mumbled, and he rested his hand, open and face-down, on Draco's stomach. As he was drifting off, he gave a jolt as he realised why he had come into Draco's bedroom in the first place. "Baby?"

"Don't ever call me that again, Potter," Draco grumbled from the pillow.

"Sorry." Harry nibbled on one of his fingernails nervously, and he cleared his throat. "Draco, are you going to fight tomorrow? With me?"

Draco's eyes opened and he stared up at the ceiling in the dark, the streetlight outside lighting the room just enough that he could make out that the ceiling was textured somehow. Would he fight with the Order tomorrow? He thought of what his mother had said, that when he gave Potter the antidote for the love potion, Potter would kick him out unless he had the Order's trust. She would be fighting, she had said, and he knew that, in her head, it had been a challenge to him. "I'll go," he finally claimed, and he shifted under Harry's weight. "But not for you. For me. Go to sleep, Potter."

Harry lifted his head and looked up into Draco's face for a moment. Their eyes met in the dark, and Harry leaned up to kiss Draco, but Draco shook his head and turned his head away. "Sleep." Harry sighed softly and nodded, curling back up to Draco and closing his eyes.

* * *

Draco was paralysed with fear. 

He was standing in the middle of the second floor of the Ministry of Magic, his back pressed against the wall across from the door of the Auror Office and his wand raised in defence. Death Eaters were swarming the area, and more than once, Draco had narrowly missed curses hurled at him by the same men he used to be obliged to indulge at dinner parties. "Malfoy," he heard spat at him by Rodolphus Lestrange, and he had been so terrified for his life in that moment that he had cast the first spell that came to mind—_Sectumsempra_. Rodolphus had fallen to the floor, bleeding so heavily that the bottom of Draco's robes was dripping when he fled in the opposite direction.

He had not seen Potter in an hour. Everything was a blur, and he knew that he should not have come, that he should not have agreed to come to this fucking battle, because he had no idea what he was doing. He had never been any good at duelling his classmates, much less Death Eaters, and when a bright blue curse was hurled at him suddenly, he screamed and hit the floor, clutching his stomach and moaning. He saw a flash of Macnair's face and choked as he spat up a mouthful of blood.

"Draco!"

Potter's voice was like a church bell in the midst of the apocalypse, and he lifted his head to see Potter running for him. He grabbed Draco's arm and hauled him to his feet, causing Draco to scream, but he ignored it and pulled Draco down the corridor. "What are you doing down here? Merlin, you could have been fucking killed!" Harry was gasping as he pulled Draco into the elevator. He smacked the 'close doors' button as fast as he could, and he hit the Emergency Stop button once the elevator began to fly downward.

Draco was moaning in agony, and he whimpered as Harry helped him to lie down on the floor. "Let me see," Harry whispered, his hands shaking as they pulled Draco's robes up over his stomach and ripped his shirt open. Draco heard him gag, and he lifted his head to see a blossoming purple bruise spreading like spilled ink over his stomach. His grey eyes rolled back ominously, but he fought for consciousness and clutched one of Harry's hands as Harry began to whisper something over him.

"Am I all right?" he moaned when the whispering stopped, but he saw tears in Harry's eyes, and the colour drained from his face. "Potter, goddamn it, _am I all right_?!" Panic was lacing through his rational thought, and he felt himself begin to shake.

"I c-can't fix it all…Fuck, Malfoy, why didn't I pay more attention when learning this?!" Harry growled, and he punched the elevator floor. "Look, I… I did what I could, and it should keep you stable… for n-now… Draco…" He looked up, hearing some explosion above, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. "Voldemort's not here, Draco…it's only Death Eaters, but… I'm going to find Bellatrix Lestrange and kill her."

Draco's first thought was that Bellatrix was his aunt, but he shook that thought out of his head and winced as he sat up. He looked down at his stomach, pleased to see that the bruise was drastically shrunken, then looked up into Harry's eyes. "Kill her, then," he coughed, and he closed his eyes when Harry shifted closer and touched his hair. "For fuck's sake, Potter, would you get out there? I'm the least important person in this building…"

"Shut up!" Harry hissed, and he kissed Draco lightly before he helped him to his feet and hit the Emergency Stop button again. The elevator lurched into motion and stopped on the fourth floor, the doors sliding open. Harry was prepared for an onslaught of curses when they did, but there was no one there. The lights were blinking ominously, and Draco swallowed hard as they stepped together out into the corridor. The elevator doors closed again, and the boys pressed against the wall, sliding sideways down it in case the elevator brought someone to their floor.

A snap in the distance made Draco give a horrible start, and he nearly dropped his wand as Harry leapt into the middle of the corridor and hurled a curse through the darkness. "_What are you doing_?" Draco hissed in shock. "_You'll give away our position_!" The elevator _ding_ed behind them, and Draco whipped painfully around, wand held high, to see several Order members stumble out of it, including his mother. She saw the pained expression on his face and nodded to him, but she did not go to him, and he shrank back against the wall.

Harry's hex fizzled against a wall at the end of the corridor, it seemed, and Harry was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when four figures in black cloaks and white masks suddenly appeared before them. Tonks and Narcissa stepped up beside Harry, who nodded to them without glancing at them, and the duel began.

The corridor was lit with hexes. The elevator kept going and coming, bringing both Death Eaters and Order members alike, often both in the same load, and there were several dead bodies, motionless and unmarked, lying on the elevator floor. Draco could not see any Order members, and for that he was glad, but he knew that he was looking at the bodies of people who had helped to raise him, and he ached slightly. Narcissa did not seem a bit fazed by the fact that she was duelling with people she had known for years, many years, and Draco watched his mother with nothing short of awe as she murdered Rosier. She never had liked him.

Harry was doing everything he could to keep the Death Eaters away from Draco ,who was the only person not fighting. He seemed transfixed, and Harry knew why —Draco knew these people and, as Dumbledore had said, Draco was not a killer. Bellatrix stepped into view, her mask shattered or discarded, and she grinned nastily at Harry. "Oh, look!" she squealed in mock delight, and she clapped her hands together. "It's baby Potter, come to save the day! How delightful!" She giggled and saw Draco pressed against the wall, and she pouted. "Dwaco," she called in her baby voice, and she fluttered her eyelashes when her nephew looked sharply at her. "Dwaco, what're you doing? Did baby Potter pwomise to pwotect you? How sweet!"

Harry snarled and threw a hex Draco recognised as the hex that had hit him in the stomach earlier, and Bellatrix dodged it with a playful giggle. "Is that the best we've got, Potter? How about you, Dwaco?" She aimed her wand at Harry, giggled, then shouted, "_Avada Kedavra_!" Her wand, however, had moved just before the spell was cast, and Draco's eyes widened as the blinding green Unforgivable was hurled at him.

It was as though the spell was cast in slow motion for Harry, and when the incantation was half-cast, he realised that it was being aimed at Draco, _his_ Draco. Eyes widened in horror, and he opened his mouth to scream before the potion took hold of him and he grabbed the nearest person to him and shoved them in the line of the spell. _Anyone but Draco, anyone but Draco_!

Narcissa's eyes widened as she saw her sister cast the ultimate Unforgivable towards her son, and when she felt Harry's hands on her, she understood. She let him push her, let him shove her into the spell's path, and she heard Draco's screams ringing in her ears when she died. The world seemed to snap quickly back to its proper time signature, and Draco flung himself to the floor, to his mother's side to shake her and yell at her. Harry's body was buzzing with emotion, and he turned to look at Bellatrix, who was staring with wide-eyed horror at what she had done. Before Harry could cast anything at her, there was a flash of Peruvian Darkness Powder, and the Death Eaters were gone.

* * *

Narcissa was placed on the couch in the den of number twelve, Grimmauld Place by Harry's shaking arms. Her face in death was set, resolute, and as Harry inspected it for the very first time, he realised how very much Draco favoured her. They had the same nose, the same white-blond hair, the very same complexion…Harry hung his head and lifted one of her cold hands, bringing it to his lips. "I'm sorry, Narcissa," he choked, and he felt tears pricking his eyes. He had killed her, really, not Bellatrix. Draco would never, ever forgive him. 

He could hear Draco's voice as the door to the den opened, and Harry registered that it sounded terrified. He looked up from Narcissa's frozen face to see Remus and Tonks standing there with Draco between them, his eyes wide and sunken and his skin a pale green colour. Remus was looking gravely at Harry, his eyebrows furrowed, and he released his hold on Draco's shoulder. "Go on, Draco," he whispered, and he felt rather than saw Draco's tremor.

Draco was not sure what spurred him to move across the room, but his feet were moving nonetheless, and he swallowed hard as he knelt beside Potter to gaze at the dead face of his mother. Narcissa, to whom his last words had been punctuated with a sneer. "Mum," he breathed, and he felt Harry's hand move to touch his lower back, and something inside of him audibly snapped. Grey eyes were suddenly narrowed, and he leapt back from Harry. "You! _You killed her, you son of a bitch_!" he screeched, and he felt his hands fumbling for his wand. He found it and jerked it out of his robes, aiming it steadily at Harry and snarling like a dog. "Why did you kill her, Potter?! _Why_?!"

Molly Weasley bustled into the room and seized Draco from behind, snatching his wand from him. Draco was screaming hoarsely now, no words forming from the onslaught of sound, and Harry felt the scream cutting into his very soul. He seized his chest and gasped for air, his left hand reaching out for Draco, needing to touch him. Memories of the night before flooded his head, memories of he and Draco laughing together and Draco suddenly rolling on top of him and kissing him and smiling, and he knew, he _knew_, that it would never happen again. "I-I…"

"NO EXCUSES!" Draco shrieked, and he wrestled himself out of Molly's arms. He was on his feet, eyes glued to Harry, and there was a moment where everyone in the room, including Draco, was sure that he would fling himself at Harry. Instead, for the second time since they had known one another, Harry watched as Draco's eyes were suddenly drowning in tears, and he felt himself sobbing with Draco's pain as he rose to his feet as well.

"I just wanted to sa—"

"I DON'T CARE!" Draco shook his head fiercely and began to back away, suddenly turning and fleeing to his room. The sound of the door slamming shook the house, and Harry crumpled to the floor.

"I-I'm s-s-so sor-sorry…"


	6. Dissipate

The smut in this chapter has been toned down in language...quite a bit. Please visit my livejournal (sakaim(DOT)livejournal(DOT)com) and see my sticky post for this chapter (six) if you wish to read the dirty version of it. I have cut some of the filthier language around the scene, and a huge chunk of it was cut out where you see the two dividers. Visit my journal then.

**Now, Sakai Michiba presents:  
Sectumsempra Animi  
Chapter Six**

* * *

Harry was lying miserably on the couch in the drawing room where he was woken up in love with Draco, avoiding the gazes of his two best friends. They were sitting on the floor beside the couch, frowning gently at him, and Hermione's hand was running over his back, rubbing and caressing in what she hoped was a soothing manner. Harry had the ratty old pillow in his arms and was clutching it to his chest, looking fixedly at the cushions on the back of the couch as she touched him, and he wondered what Draco was doing. "Harry," Hermione whispered, and she smiled when he flipped his head over and looked into her eyes, his own rimmed with red. He had been crying until Ron and Hermione had shown up. 

Hermione sighed as Harry squeezed his eyes shut, and she ran her fingers up his spine and touched his hair. "Harry, Narcissa could have resisted. She could have just refused to be budged…" Hermione and Ron had not gone to the Ministry at Harry's request, but Tonks had told them what happened. "But she didn't. She didn't want her son killed any more than…than you did." Tonks had told her how beautiful it had been when Harry had shoved Narcissa in front of the spell, whether Draco realised it or not.

Harry opened his eyes again and stared at Hermione. She really had no idea what she was talking about, he thought, and he sat up to look down at them. "I have to go see Draco," he whispered, but both Ron and Hermione held onto his knees to prevent him from getting up. "What are you _doing_?!" he demanded, and he tried to push their hands off of him. "Let me go! I need to tell him…tell him what happened."

"He was there, Harry! He saw what happened!" Hermione whispered in a pleading voice. "Don't go up there —he'll try his hardest to hurt you! He's really, really upset, Harry…"

"Wouldn't you be?!" Harry demanded, and he slammed his fist down against the cushions of the couch. He was still dressed in the robes he had worn at the Ministry, which were torn in places. "Besides, he was hit with the Severing Hex —he's bleeding internally— and he needs me. He'll die unless he's taken care of!"

"Snape's already been to him," Ron muttered, hatred dripping like snake's venom from his voice at the mention of their old Potions master. "There's no need for you to go right now, Harry, unless you're looking for a fight."

Harry groaned in frustration and pushed them away with his feet. They just did not understand, did not _know_ how he felt for Draco, could not understand the intricate relationship between them. Sure, they had walked in on he and Draco snogging last week, but they probably thought that Draco was controlling him or had him under the influence of some sort of love potion, and that was _ridiculous_. He would remember if Draco had forced him to drink a love potion, after all. "There is more need for me to go right now than you understand," Harry growled, the first sparks of anger igniting inside of him. "So let. Me. Go."

Hermione and Ron looked at one another and sighed before they stood up and stepped aside. Harry got to his feet as well and stared at them for a few moments before he nodded to them and left the drawing room.

Draco felt like such a child, lying upstairs in his bed with the blankets wound around his body and the pillow clutched to his chest. Ever since Snape had been in to heal his injuries, he had been hopelessly tangled up in the sheets, staring at the flame of the oil lamp for so long that the yellow light was burned into his vision. He was ashamed that Snape had seen him crying, and he had been unable to meet his godfather's eyes while he was fed potions and spells were whispered over him.

"Draco," Snape had said, and he had rubbed Draco's stomach soothingly in a gesture unlike anything Draco had ever known from the man. "Your mother would have resisted Potter if she had wanted to. She knew what was happening. Your mother was never taken by surprise by anything, and you know that." He closed his eyes to allow Draco some dignity as the boy threw his arm over his face and hid his eyes in his elbow, sobbing loudly. "It will hurt less in time."

"NO IT WON'T!" Draco had yelled hoarsely, and Severus had been rather taken aback by that statement. Draco had waved his hand, wanting Snape gone, and the man had complied. The moment that Snape was gone, Draco had screamed into his pillow until his throat was raw.

He heard the knock at his door but did not acknowledge it, instead closing his eyes and sobbing silently into the pillow. When the door opened and no words were spoken, he cracked his right eye open and saw Potter standing there, cheeks flushed and fists clenched. Fury and outrage swelled up inside of Draco, and he miraculously disentangled himself from the sheets in seconds and had his wand at the ready. "Come to kill me, too?!" he hissed, eyes narrowed as Potter advanced slowly on him.

"Of course not, Draco," Harry whispered, and he reached up to touch Draco's wand. The wood was burning against his fingers, but he did not pull away, and he pushed Draco's wand aside. "Draco, are you all r—"

"_No, I'm not all right_!" Draco screeched, and he dropped his wand in favour of drawing his hand back and punching Potter as hard as he could in the jaw. Harry yelped and stumbled back, and Draco used the moment of weakness to his advantage. He gave a positively visceral scream and leapt on Harry, knocking him to the ground and pummelling him with his fists, sobbing desperately as he knocked the breath out of Harry. Harry's arms lifted to protect his face, but Draco forced them apart and punched him in the nose, breaking it with ease, and Harry howled in pain. "You killed her, you bastard! _You fucking killed my mum; you deserve it_!"

"I DO DESERVE IT!" Harry yelled thickly, tears spilling over his cheeks not because of the pain of the punches to his chest and his face or the agony of the broken nose, but because he could feel every scream and every sob escaping Draco's mouth as though it were ripping through his very essence of being. He tried reaching for Draco, tried to bring him down, to pin him to his chest and stop him hitting and breaking, but he could not seem to catch him.

Molly was standing at the bottom of the stairs, listening to the screaming and the dull thud of skin-on-skin she knew had to be punches, and she started up the stairs, but it was Severus who grabbed her arm and gave her a stern look. "Molly," he warned quietly, "leave them, all right? Potter can take care of himself, and Draco won't hurt him too badly."

"Are you certain?" Molly asked, concern etched into every line of her face, and when Severus nodded, she sighed and stepped away from the stairs. "Severus, what's going on between them? Do _you_ know? No one else can figure out what has… occurred between them."

Severus's face hardened and he looked away from the short woman. "I think I have an idea, Molly, but I am uncomfortable with sharing it presently. Do not be too concerned…I believe that it will fix itself in time." He considered touching her shoulder, but he refrained and walked away from her instead, continuing on his path to the kitchen. As much as he resented Draco for placing Potter under the influence of Sectumsempra Animi, Severus knew that the potion had, ultimately, saved his life down there in the Ministry of Magic. He could not resent him any longer for that.

Harry choked as Draco punched him fiercely in the stomach, and he reached up to swipe blood and tears from his face before he tried to unseat Draco from his thighs, lifting one leg sharply and toppling him off to the right. Draco shrieked in rage and tried to fly at him again, but Harry, blood dripping from his chin and one eye beginning to swell and turn purple, launched himself at Draco and knocked him to the floor onto his back. Draco was wailing and thrashing, his hands attempting to reach up and claw at Harry's face, but Harry pinned his arms down with his knees and leaned his weight heavily on them. "STOP IT! _STOP IT, POTTER_!" Draco was bellowing, and Harry screwed up his face before he did the hardest thing he had ever done in his entire life.

He reached back to gain momentum and slapped Draco Malfoy across the face as hard as he possibly could.

The screaming stopped immediately, and Draco's eyes widened in complete shock, tears dripping from the corners of his eyes. Harry choked and whimpered, though he did not release Draco from the floor, and he shakily ran his hand through Draco's hair. "D-Draco, I… you were hurting me," he stuttered, and he watched as Draco's face absolutely crumpled into desperate, pathetic sobs. Harry closed his eyes and heaved a deep sigh before he slowly climbed off of Draco and helped him off of the floor, pulling him close into a tight embrace. "Shhh…"

Draco moaned and drew back trembling, lifting his wand and pointing it at Harry again, but he did not look to be aiming to hex Harry, so Harry stayed still as Draco repaired his nose and eye with a few basic healing spells he must have learned with the Death Eaters. "I-I-I'm sorry, P-Potter," he choked, and he began to turn away to go back to bed, but Harry caught him from behind and drew him back, hugging him to his chest and dropping his head onto Draco's shoulder.

"Don't apologise to me, Malfoy," Harry murmured, and he kissed the nape of Draco's neck with tear-moistened lips. Draco hung his head, and Harry kissed each vertebra that poked upward against the white skin. He noticed for the first time that there was a mole just beneath Draco's hairline, and he kissed it as well, one hand coming up to lift Draco's hair away from his head so he could kiss along his hairline. The little hairs on the nape of Draco's neck lifted and gooseflesh raised along the path Harry was kissing. Draco felt dizzy, and he leaned heavily back against Harry's chest. He slid his arms back around the other's waist, the backs of his hands resting against Harry's spine, and he traced one of the vertebrae with the second knuckle of his right index finger. "I… I'm the one who should be sorry, but you have so much more to offer than your mother did. You can make a difference, Draco... Narcissa had given up."

Draco shook his head silently, but Harry nipped his earlobe. "She had, and you know it. She never left her room even though we did our best to persuade her; she was miserable living like this, but there was no other choice. I know that doesn't make it hurt any less for you, but we're… we're all selfish, Draco. Sometimes, we must live for ourselves."

Draco gave a low sob and turned in Harry's arms, sliding his arms around his neck and burying his face in Harry's shoulder. Harry sat down on the bed and pulled Draco into his lap, arms wrapped around him holding him securely on his thighs. Draco let Harry dry his tears with his shirt, and when his cheeks were suitably tear-free, he looked up into Harry's eyes and forgot to be cruel, forgot to be angry about their past, and he wrapped his right arm around Harry's neck with a tired expression.

Harry chewed his lower lip for a moment before he took a deep breath and leaned down to press his lips to Draco's without fear for the first time. Draco moaned and wrapped his other arm around Harry's neck, kissing back with complete, consuming desperation. The pure emotion radiating off of Draco would have made Harry weak in the knees had he been standing, and he lifted his wand from the bed, flicking it to shut the bedroom door before he pulled Draco backwards on the bed and lay back comfortably on the mattress. The shift of weight caused Draco to nearly fall off of him, but Harry helped him right himself, and a moment later they were pressed flush together, spread out on the bed with Harry's knees lifted to either side of Draco's body. One of his feet lifted and rubbed a line back and forth over the back of Draco's thigh as they explored one another's mouths. Draco tasted of the tears he had been crying out for several hours, and Harry tasted slightly coppery —some blood from his broken nose had trickled down his throat— as his tongue boldly pressed into Draco's mouth and mapped out every tooth, traced every dip and ridge of the hard palate. A low moan reverberated in the kiss, and Harry was unsure as to whom it belonged to.

Draco let himself get lost, completely lost, in Harry for the first time without the potion or their past niggling at the back of his mind. He could feel Harry's heartbeat pounding against his chest, feel the pull of the blankets beneath them as Harry's hands grabbed fistfuls of it before coming up and burying in his blond hair, feel the groan bubbling up from Harry's lungs before it ever sounded, and the sensations of the sounds and the tastes and every little feeling made him ache with want —not need— for Harry. Time was speeding up and slowing down at a maddening pace; their kisses lasted for years, their eyes locked for halves of seconds, and then time would flip sickeningly and Draco could count the flecks of hazel in green eyes a million times over before either of them moved again.

The world around them was a blur of half-darkness, the oil lamp that had held watch over their last rendezvous flickering steadily on as it had before. Silent questions between them deafened Draco.

_Do you love me_?

_Yes, yes, and you, you love me, don't you_?

_For now, for now_.

A passion unlike any Draco had ever known was stoking itself at every brush of skin, at every kiss and sharp exhalation, and his head was spinning. They were not even naked; shirts were still buttoned, socks were still firmly in place, and he was groaning as though he was buried balls-deep in Harry, the sensations were so incredibly exhilarating. Fingers in his hair were clutching at his scalp, grasping at the roots of his hair and tugging ever-so-gently, and he seized Harry's hair in return, testing the texture between his fingers and pulling so sharply that Harry's mouth was torn from his with a hoarse, guttural moan.

_Do you trust me_?

_Fuck, fuck, more than anything_…

Time flipped again as Draco's lips attached to the soft flesh of Harry's neck, and he could feel his teeth slowly, achingly slowly, pressing down into the softness. He could taste individual hairs on his tongue, on his gums, and he felt the muscle below the flesh twitch in slow motion. He could not hear Harry whimpering his name, but he felt the vibration of Harry's throat against his cheek and knew the syllables, and he whispered Harry's name, chanted it, against the skin he was accosting with his tongue and teeth. He sucked hard, pulling blood to the surface of the skin, and when his mark was made, he dragged his lips up the angular jaw-line below Harry's ear and nipped it, feeling the stubble and licking the rough patch with something skin to affection.

Harry's ear was slightly sour to the taste as Draco traced the shell, up and around and down and in, then out, up, behind. He pressed the pressure point behind the lobe with the flat of his tongue and time snapped back to its normal pace with Harry's gasp. His teeth snagged the lobe and tugged it gently, releasing when the tension was too much, and his hand tightened in Harry's hair as he dipped his tongue into the ear, making Harry call out loudly and grab Draco's shoulder frantically. "Draco, Draco, _Draco_…" It must have been too much, and Draco separated his mouth from Harry's ear to brush the wings of their noses together, and he stared down into his eyes again, panting against Harry's parted lips. He could feel the air move when Harry's tongue darted out to moisten his lips then Draco's, and Draco's hand loosened its grip on black hair and slid down Harry's right side, finding the hem of his shirt and lifting it, slithering beneath it to caress the warm curve of his side.

Harry's eyelids fluttered and he cupped Draco's cheek, feeling the hints of rough stubble there, and he ran his thumbnail against the grain, feeling the tiny blond hairs snapping back into place when his thumb passed over them. Draco's left hand lifted and pulled his glasses off, setting them with a soft _clack_ on the nightstand, and Harry could see nothing but him, nothing but the grey eyes so sharply in focus before him, and he tugged on Draco's shirt, wanting it gone. Draco just barely nodded, and he tore their foreheads apart to pull his nightshirt over his head and throw it aside. The muscles beneath the skin of his chest flexed and stretched with the movement, and Harry watched the rolling movement —slightly blurred from his point of view— in adoration. Draco's fingers made quick work of Harry's buttons, and he pulled Harry into a sitting position by his collar before he threw the button-down out of sight into the darkness.

They fell to the mattress again together, now on their sides and facing one another, and Draco was invading Harry's mouth again with his tongue, every movement slow and calculated as his tongue writhed with Harry's, circling it and flicking against it and driving Harry absolutely up the wall with arousal. Draco's stomach was so soft and warm against his, the rough curls trailing down from his bellybutton lining up precisely with Harry's until one of Draco's thighs moved between both of Harry's. The weight was heavy and comforting, and Harry thought Draco would roll on top of him again, but instead he did the very opposite, bringing Harry on top and letting him take the lead for now.

It was a welcome change, and Harry broke the fierce kiss to bite and lick his way down Draco's chest. The pink nipples firmed up beneath the onslaught of his tongue and teeth, and he breathed cool air across each in turn before he hooked his fingers on the waistband of Draco's pyjamas. He continued his steady path south, following the dip of the line separating Draco's abs to his bellybutton, his strange little bellybutton. He touched it with the tip of his nose then the tip of his tongue, and Draco whimpered, arched his back into the sinful kiss, and his hands were in Harry's hair again. "I love you," Harry breathed against the skin, but it did not ruin the effect for Draco this time. No, he needed someone, anyone, to love him, even if he did not necessarily love them back in the way the other might want. No, they were the perfect words to say, and Draco sobbed, tears making an encore appearance and dripping down the creases at the corners of his eyes, and one of Harry's hands reached up, fingers catching several of the tears with care. Draco seized the proffered hand and kissed the palm wetly, tracing the life line and love line with his tongue as Harry's other hand pulled down his pyjamas to find that Draco wore nothing underneath.

The head of Draco's cock nudged the bottom of Harry's chin, and Draco blushed lightly as Harry moved to take it in his mouth. Harry had sucked him off before, but it had never been like this, never in the middle of what could be considered nothing other than _lovemaking_, for Merlin's sake, and the motion was so full of consideration and adoration and a thousand other '–ation's that Draco's vision went spotty when Harry's tongue dipped into the slit at the very tip of his cock to sample the drop of pre-ejaculate that quivered there. His toes curled as smooth, moistened lips slid firmly over the spongy head and just under the foreskin before he opened his mouth just slightly wider to accommodate the change in girth. Draco's cock twitched in his mouth when he had taken it in as much as he could, until he could taste a slick, salty droplet sliding down the back of his throat, and he drew his head back before pushing forward again, his tongue working all the while.

Draco spread his legs and made a hard, breathy sound from the back of his throat as Harry pumped his cock with his lips, and he was careful not to jerk his hips up every time he hit the back of Harry's throat. There were fingers tickling carefully across his testicles, and he shivered when Harry let the shaft fall from his mouth to dip his mouth lower, taking the delicate sac between his lips and sucking it into his mouth. His right hand came up to continue the job his mouth had been performing, fingers curling lovingly around the shaft, and Draco made that strange sound in the back of his throat again before he sat up on his elbows and sucked two of Harry's fingers into his mouth. Harry moaned thickly and arched his hips against the mattress, his thumb swiping over the crown of Draco's cock as he let the warm flesh fall from between his lips. He nudged the sac aside and flicked his tongue over Draco's perineum, and Draco's eyes snapped open with the shuddering moan than fluttered through him. He dropped Harry's fingers from his mouth. "H-Harry…"

Harry's eyes squeezed closed —it was the first time Draco had ever called him anything other than 'Potter' or some derisive nickname— and he wanted to savour the moment. Then Draco's hands were seizing him under his arms, and he was being pulled back up and over Draco's body. Their lips and tongues clashed hard as Draco's hands made short work of the button fly of Harry's denim trousers, and soon they were being shoved down over his hips. Harry assisted in kicking them off and away, and Draco was rolling with him again, pinning him to the mattress and moaning sweetly into his mouth before he suddenly broke the kiss and slithered down Harry's body with the grace of a cat. Harry's eyes widened the second before it happened as he realised what Draco was going to do, and when Draco's mouth closed over him, he yelled Draco's name out into the rafters of the old house, legs as far apart as they could comfortably go.

Draco had never done anything like this, but then again, he supposed, Potter never had before that first time in the corridor either, and he had certainly done fine. He also had no intention of making Harry come from this alone, but judging by the repeated, gasping moans escaping Harry's lips, he would have had no trouble doing that, either. He did not mean to linger, and so he bestowed a few long, well-deserved licks along Harry's cock before he slid lower, but instead of licking Harry's testicles or perineum, he rolled Harry's hips up with his hands and, surprising himself, really, swiped his tongue over Harry's arse.

Harry _squeaked_. The sound was so ridiculous that he released a torrent of slightly-hysterical laughter before he could calm down enough to properly blush, and he threw one of his arms over his head with another small yelp as Draco did it again, and he was cursing and growling out Draco's name with enthusiasm he had never shown for _anything_. He could feel Draco chuckling, and he very nearly mocked him in exasperation, but he was speechless, breathless.

Ron and Hermione stared blankly at one another at the sound of Harry's voice ringing out through Grimmauld Place, and Hermione cleared her throat a bit. "I'll just go… place a Silencing Charm on the room, shall I?" Ron nodded enthusiastically, and she got up, cheeks a fiery red, to do just that. Ron slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand and groaned.

When Draco came back up over Harry, Harry was shaking and gasping for breath, one trembling hand coming up to cup Draco's chin. "Fuck me, Draco, _for fuck's sake_," he begged, and he nearly sobbed with relief when Draco reached for the jar of lube he kept in the nightstand.

* * *

Afterward, he collapsed on top of Harry and buried his face in his neck, struggling to catch his breath and clinging to the boy beneath him, who clung back as hard as he could. When Harry repeated his love for Draco against his ear for the second time since they had begun, Draco nodded and sobbed and kissed him deeply, reluctant to pull out of him and even more reluctant to let go. 

Hermione frowned at Draco over the breakfast table the next morning, seeing the exhaustion in his eyes and, in contradiction, the faint smile on his lips. Harry was sitting next to him, eyes fixed on Malfoy's face, and it was not only annoying her, it seemed, for Draco elbowed Harry in the side. "Quit staring at me, for fuck's sake," he growled, but his eyes were shining and there was a hint of playfulness to his voice that made Harry grin at him. Hermione wondered what Harry could possibly have said the night before to entice Malfoy out of his sobbing misery to sex, to this display of playful sadness before her, and she cleared her throat. "Malfoy, could we have a talk alone when you're finished?"

Harry blinked and looked up at her, cocking his head to the side a bit. "Why?" he asked, and Hermione gave him a hard look.

"I didn't ask _you_, Harry," she stated matter-of-factly, and she ignored the slightly hurt look on Harry's face to meet Draco's eyes over his plate of eggs. "So will you, Malfoy? In the drawing room?"

So, fifteen minutes later, Draco was walking alone into the drawing room, where Hermione was sitting and staring out the window, her foot tapping irritably against the rug. Draco cocked an eyebrow at her then closed the door behind him, casting an Imperturbable Charm on the door before he fixed his attention on one of the antique-filled cabinets in the room. He spotted his mother's family crest and felt his heart ache. "What's all this stuff, Granger?" he asked, shooting her a look over his shoulder.

"Kreacher managed to save quite a bit of what we threw out before fifth year," Hermione said shortly, and she gave a bit of a shrug. "If we try to throw any of it out, he manages to get it back, so we let him get on with it. It's better than him muttering all the time, the poor thing."

Draco wrinkled his nose at her pitying house-elves —as though they needed pity— but remained silent even when he felt her get up behind him. "Malfoy," she sighed, and he stiffened a little, seeing her reflection in the glass. She reminded him of a young McGonagall, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Look, what are you doing with Harry?"

He knew he should have been expecting this. Of course they suspected—Potter was absolutely obsessed with him and had been for over a month now. He could not quite recall how long it had been, but he supposed that it was of little importance. Right now, he needed Potter and his adoration to mend the gaping hole created by the death of Narcissa, and he would not give an antidote until he was feeling better, if ever. He really felt no need to cater to Snape's whims. "I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, and he opened one of the cabinet doors to begin searching through the things. "This is a really fucking nice goble—"

"Don't feed me that shite, Malfoy!" she exclaimed angrily, and she came up beside him, glowering. "I heard you two last night, and that wasn't the first time! What spells have you got him under?!"

He snorted at her and glanced over to meet her eyes. "Look, Mudblood, I don't _need_ spells or potions to win over idiots like Potter. Did it ever occur to you that maybe —just maybe— he fell in love with me on his own?" He set down the silver goblet he had been inspecting then buried himself deeper in the cabinet. "You could sell this stuff for a tonne of Galleons…"

"That doesn't matter!" she sighed, and she tried to close the cabinet door on him, but he resisted and reached back further into it. "He wouldn't have just…_fallen in love_ with you, Malfoy. He hates you, for Merlin's sake…Would you get out of there already?!"

He rolled his eyes and glared at her. "Thin line, Granger. Love, hate, that whole business…Careful, or you'll be the one sucking my dick next." She let out a squeal of outrage and he smirked, his fingers brushing something in the back of the deep shelves and pushing it just out of reach. He leaned further in, knocking a few pewter items over in his path.

"I would _never_, not in a _million years_, Malfoy!" she hissed, repulsed by the very thought, and she seized the back of his robes, hauling his backward out of the cabinet. "Get out of there, damn it! I…I…D-Draco…"

He flipped around snarling at her, the object he had just retrieved dangling on its chain from his fingers. "What the fuck, Granger?" he hissed, and he looked down at the heavy locket hanging from his hand. She was pointing at it frantically, her other hand over her mouth, and he blinked, confused at her, before looking down at the ornate snake curled into a distinct 's' adorning the front of the locket. "Er…What's wrong?"

"Regulus Black," she whispered, and she literally leapt into the air. "_Harry! Harry, get in here! R.A.B. was Regulus Black, of course_!" She was screaming then, and Draco was back up against the cabinet, eyes wide in fear. His mind wandered back to a book he had read as a child, When Mudbloods Go Mad, and the gruesome pictures were flickering over his corneas when Harry burst into the room and looked between them for a moment before his eyes fell on the locket. He seized the doorframe for support then looked at Draco, who was looking shell-shocked, and he launched himself at him, arms wrapping around Draco's neck a moment before he pressed their lips together in complete, maddening joy.


End file.
